


Hieroglyphics

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Series: Hieroglyphic Alphabet [1]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Medical Procedures, Multi, POV Multiple, Post Gauda Prime, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake's rebels punish Avon while Blake is recovering, so he has no idea at first what happened. Dayna is fiercely loyal to Avon and also attracted to Blake. Avon refuses to admit he's traumatized; most of Blake's rebels still have it in for Avon, Avon goes out of his way to alienate his old crew, and in general there's a lot of tension, not helped by the one male rebel who has an unrequited crush on Avon.</p><p>But Dayna's energy and determination won't take no for an answer. She's going to reconcile Avon and Blake even if she has to knock their stubborn heads together.</p><p>(NOTE:The rape takes place before the story, but is frequently referenced and affects the victim throughout.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hieroglyphics

**Author's Note:**

> Hieroglyphics (published in No Holds Barred 26 – If I recall correctly) is an adult prequel to The Alphabet Gang which was published in The Seven Live On #11 years before. Neither story needs the other in order to be understood (and considering their drastically different ratings, this is fortunate), but they do belong in the same sequence of events.
> 
> This is an old fic. The story had been accepted for three zines, sequentially, where the first two editors gave up after a year or so as they weren't able to produce the zine and then the third editor had to wait to get enough fic to go to press. Yes, guys, waiting for fic in the pre AO3 days often took years.
> 
> I would write it much differently today (for one thing, showing everyone's point of view was a common style at the time that I now find less than pleasing), but I decided not to make major changes and simply consider it a historical document. It took two full days just to get it readable. It was on a 10 year old CD, saved in a near gibberish format after being transferred through at least 3 computers and that many barely compatible word processing programs.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

 _Oh, quit moaning, Vila,_ Dayna thought. She felt rotten enough without having to listen to someone else whining. Her side was so sore it hurt to breathe. _Of course it hurts, I was shot._ Dayna stiffened, remembering. Blake's base. Everything going wrong. Getting shot.

Her eyes flew open before she realized she had to be a prisoner and ought not to let them know she was awake. Nothing happened, though. No alarms went off, nobody ran up and started shouting questions at her. Not that there was anything she could tell them anyway. She examined her surroundings as best she could without moving. It was a medical unit- all white and sterile-looking, with monitors and racks of equipment and supplies all around. She ran her left hand slowly up her side, encountering the smooth bulk of bandage. Saving her for interrogation, no doubt. She shifted towards the soft, continuous moaning and saw a man wearing a white tunic, his back to her, apparently concentrating on the moaner, whose face was hidden by the man in white. There didn't seem to be anyone else around. Maybe, if she was very quick, and very quiet, she could ... Dayna pushed up on her elbows.

The pain rose so sharply she would have screamed, but she couldn't get enough air and collapsed onto the bed. An alarm went off. The man in white hurried over to her and she felt a rush of warmth in her right arm. The pain receded and consciousness went with it, but before she passed out she saw the moaning patient. His bed was tilted and he was facing her. His face was distorted with pain, but she would never forget him. Blake. The cause of all this.

***

The next time Dayna woke, she found herself restrained. Again, no one seemed to be watching her, so she tried to work one hand down to the fastenings.

"Oh, no you don't," came a man's voice from behind.

Dayna twisted, but couldn't see who was talking. "Coward," she said, "why won't you show yourself!"

"I'm too busy for this," the man muttered, then came around to the front of her bed. 

"You're a bit young for an interrogator," she commented, noting the man's thick dark hair and unlined face. In fact, he looked younger than Tarrant, or at least he would if it weren't for the dark circles around his eyes. 

"I suppose I suppose I would be, if I were one. Let me introduce myself. I'm Doctor Bellamy of the Gauda Prime rebellion." He smiled, briefly. "Actually, I am the only doctor here and I'd appreciate it if you didn't add to my work by opening up your wound." He flipped back a section of the covering and prodded gently at her side. "How's the pain?"

Dayna held her breath for a moment, then said, "Fine." She lifted her chin in the general direction of the other medical bed. "Are you with _him_?" 

"Blake. Yes. I'm with Blake.I'm sure you have many questions, but it would be better for you to rest." He reached up to adjust her medication drip.

"No! Please! Just tell me- are my friends... did any of them make it?"

The doctor patted her on the shoulder. "Yes. They were technically dead, but I was able to reverse the shock damage, thanks to some medical equipment Blake had recreated from his old ship. They are... all alive. " There was something not right in his expression. 

"But not for long? Is that it? Because of _him_!" Dayna was furious, but she hadn't the strength to maintain it. She fell back against the pillow, gasping.

"No one blames _you_. The security tapes made that clear. It was Avon, not you, who shot Blake."

"It was all Blake's fault! Please..."

"You and the others won't be punished for your leader's actions." His hand moved, and Dayna felt the warmth again.

***

Blake was tired, beyond tired. He was sick at heart and weary of life. If only he could rest. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Avon's face. Avon's face as he shot- as he _killed_ Blake. Avon had always been amoral and selfish, but somehow Blake had felt he could be trusted, relied upon to do what Blake asked- what Blake needed.

Maybe he thought he was doing what Blake needed when he shot him. Maybe he was even right. Maybe Blake had outlived his usefulness, both to the rebellion and to himself. Being dead couldn't hurt as much as living and knowing that the one man he trusted beyond all others had tried so very hard to kill him. 

"Avon," he said out loud, "you should have finished me."

A voice said, "He never was a decent shot. He should have let me do it."

Blake's bed was tilted so that he could breathe easier. He tracked the voice and found himself staring back into eyes that were even darker than Avon's. The face surrounding those eyes was young and beautiful. He noted that she was strapped down to her bed, as he was to his. They were sharing monitoring equipment so their beds were necessarily close enough for a harsh whisper to carry. Bellamy was asleep on a nearby cot, but Blake felt no need to raise his voice and call for assistance, not against this child. "You could have tried, girl."

The black eyes snapped with fire. "I'd have done it, all right. I always hated people like you, Blake. Bellamy told me about your tests- your games. You play with people," she spoke as softly as Blake, but with venom.

"I wasn't playing, girl. I had to know."

"What did you have to know? Did you have to know how long Avon had looked for you? Did you have to know how badly things had gone for him?"

"I was unarmed. He had no cause to shoot. What defense can there be for murder?"

"It wasn't murder. He didn't... He was coming here to join you. Things e to join you. Things was coming here to join you. Things in you. Things just... well, they went wrong." Dayna frowned. Blake was putting her on the defensive, making her see his point of view and she didn't like it. 

"Went wrong." Blake rolled the words around in his mouth, as if they tasted bitter. "Oh, I see, it was all an accident. I suppose he didn't mean to shoot Klyn either."

Dayna was puzzled, then she said, "Oh, the woman who sounded the alarm? What else was he supposed to do?"

"She was only a communications tech, hardly a threat to anyone."

"I'd have shot her, if he hadn't. Everyone's a threat. Pretty young things, feeble old men, old loves, and old _friends_ ," Dayna said bitterly. "We've been betrayed by all of them. Mercy is a luxury we can't afford."

"Avon's words."

"No. Servalan taught me that, when my family took her in and she killed my father. My blind father."

"Everyone has sad stories, girl. We don't all become murderers." Blake refused to feel pity for Avon. Avon wasn't the victim, no matter what fantasies this child held. This very fiercely attractive child. She was a bloodthirsty savage, but he had to admire her loyalty and her spirit.

"Avon's no murderer and my name is _Dayna_."

"Dayna, then." He yawned. The drugs were taking over again and he wasn't quite as careful in he wasn't quite as careful in his speech as he meant to be. "Avon's lucky to have you as a friend." And possibly more than that, although Avon was, of course, much too old for her. Dayna made an undecipherable noise and he glanced at her. She was crying, huge tears welling up in her lovely eyes. "Are you in pain? Bellamy..."

Dayna shook her head. "Avon. Avon's _not_ lucky. Your people are going to kill him."

"No. I've given no such orders." Blake refused to simply dismiss Klyn's death as an unfortunate accident', but killing Avon wouldn't bring her back. Avon's skills would buy his life. What he could do for the rebellion was too important to throw away in seeking justice.

"Bellamy knows. He wouldn't say it out right, but he knows they're going to kill Avon. Oh, but your hands are clean, because you couldn't be bothered to ask about him." 

Blake closed his eyes briefly, then looked at Dayna again. She reminded him of someone, but the name was lost in the mists of programming. He'd failed whoever it had been. He took a deep breath, fighting against the pain, and called, "Bellamy!"

***

Armed with Blake's authority on a vid-disk, the doctor had taken a gurney to collect Avon.

"Satisfied, girl?" Blake asked, as he wearily closed his eyes.

Dayna was about to snap back at him, but paused when she realized he'd passed out. Unconscious, he looked different- the strength that she'd fought against was gone. She saw pain and loss and an unexpected vulnerability. Her stomach clenched with an unfamiliar sensation. Sympathy, she told herself firmly, that was all it was. That and perhaps, just perhaps, he reminded her a little bit of her father. She turned away from Blake. The only _family_ she had left were prisoners of Blake's people, she had to remember that. She found herself glancing back at him, observing the rise and fall of his broad chest, the way the light picked out his wayward curls. Well, there wasn't anything else to capture her attention, was there? Besides, she ought to be studying Blake. He was the only one who could help her friends. To save Avon and Tarrant and Soolin and even Vila, she'd befriend the devil if she had to. And Blake wasn't a devil. Under all that bluster, there was... well, she wasn't sure exactly what it was, but it was something she wanted to investigate.

She was still staring at Blake when she heard the med-unit doors open. "Thanks, you can go now, " Bellamy said, dismissing the man who had been pushing the gurney. Dayna couldn't move much, but she could hardly miss the big man behind the gurney. He had wide-set gray eyes, dark blonde hair and a squuay eyes, dark blonde hair and a square jaw that emphasized his resolution when he shook his head.

"I'll stay," he said.

"To protect Blake and me, from him?" Bellamy indicated the blanket-covered, unmoving form on the gurney. "He's no danger to anyone at the moment."

"Actually, I meant to protect _him_." The man shrugged broad shoulders. "If Blake wants him alive long enough to stand trial, someone should be here to keep off the hot-heads. I don't want us turning into crimos. We're fighting to make Gauda Prime a civilized planet again." 

"All right. I could certainly use a hand. What's your name?"

"Leland."

"Leland. Get him onto a treatment table." Bellamy looked up and noticed Dayna. "You ought to be resting." He came to her, glanced over at Blake, and checked the readings on the monitors.

"Please. Let me see Avon first, aaand then I'll rest." Dayna couldn't even tell if the body on the table was breathing.

"You can see him later." He followed her eyes down to the blood liberally streaking his hands and white tunic. He grimaced. "It looks worse than it is. Promise to lie still, and I'll release the straps."

Dayna nodded. Even without the restraints she couldn't go anywhere, but she hated the feeling of being trapped. Once she was freed she rubbed her wrists and watched silently as Bellamy pulled a screen around Avon's treatment table. She heard Avon's voice, although the words were slurred as if in delirium. He cried out from time to time, and Dayna found herself clenching her fists at each muffled protest. Finally she looked away from the screen, distracted by a soft sound close behind her.

Blake looked at her, and his eyes were so sad she felt compelled to comfort him. "You didn't know."

"I should have," Blake replied. "They are my people."

"I suppose when you commanded the _Liberator_ , you always knew what Avon and Vila were doing?" she asked innocently. She heard a few stories from Vila to the contrary.

Blake's tense face loosened and he gave her a grin. "Touché."

There was a rattle. They looked back to see Bellamy fold back the screen surrounding Avon. The blanket was gone, replaced by bandages. Leland was tidying up, carrying away a basin of bloody water and a pile of bloody cloth. 

Bellamy dried his hands on a towel and put it down when he saw Blake was awake. He looked at the monitors, nodded in relief, and began unbuckling Blake's restraints. "The young lady has promised to respect my work. Will you?" He searched Blake's face for his answer.

"Perhaps."

Bellamy shook his head, but helped Blake to sit up more comfortably. "The soft-tissue regenerator has stopped the bleeding and I've put everything back in place, but you need at least ten days of bed-rest. There was a great deal of damage."

Blake winced as he took a deep breath. "Yes. I'd noticed. I can't guarantee you ten days. The Federation inspector is coming."

"Everyone knows what to do and if anyone forgets, Deva will be there."

"How is he?"

"Better than you. He had the good sense to fall down the _first_ time he was shot. I regenerated his left shoulder and sedated him. He's in his quarters, resting."

"Deva's a good man. He didn't know what was happening to Avon?"

"No. I had already sedated him. It was a bit... confused for a time. I had to operate on you and the young lady..."

"Dayna," Blake supplied.

"...Dayna while you were in suspension. The younger man with Avon had broken ribs and a fractured knee, and the whole lot of you had 'died' from systemic shock. I lost Klyn." Bellamy's eyes looked haunted. "I thought I was going to lose you, too."

"Not yet, I think. How is Avon?"

"It's ugly, but nothing fatal."

"Details." 

"Do you really think..." Bellamy questioned with a raised eyebrow, glancing at Dayna , who was listening intently.

"Yes," Dayna said. "You might as well. Otherwise, I'll just have to use my imagination."

Bellamy shrugged and pulled up a chair, sitting between the two beds. "He was beaten, mostly about the torso, fracturing seven ribs and bruising the liver and kidneys. He's lost a few teeth. His right arm was broken in two places, his left leg in three. There were what appear to be electrical burns on his tongue." He paused.

"Go on," Blake said.

"There was internal hemorrhaging, not too severe. He's also suffered a mild concussion. Lacerations and contusions on his back. Nothing else worth mentioning."

It sounded all too familiar to Blake. "They were careful."

"Careful!" Dayna said, outraged.

Blake looked at her. "They didn't want him to die too soon. Not everyone in my organization is an angel. We've learned things from the Federation."

"I don't know why Avon wanted to come back to you," Dayna was angry, not only at the unknown torturers, but at Blake. 

"Don't you?" 

Dayna went silent, thinking about that last, bad year. "Maybe I do," she admitted at last. "He said he wanted to use you as a figurehead."

Blake laughed. "Did he really?"

Dayna frowned, then laughed too. "Not very flattering, is it?"

"Perhaps. It all depends on how you look at it." It was Blake's turn to lie silent, thinking about the past.

***

"But I have to see for myself," Dayna said firmly. "How do I know Avon's little playmates aren't starting in on the rest of my friends?"

Blake gave in."Bellamy! Is she strong enough to leave the medical unit?" 

"In my considered opinion, no," Bellamy replied. "But," he said as he pushed forward a hover-chair, "I can't see any harm in it, either. I'll take her. I'd send Leland, but..."  
Blake nodded. If there was hostility toward Avon' s crew, the doctor would be her best protection. Leland was large, but he had no authority.

"I can look after myself," Dayna said. It was a slight exaggeration, as Bellamy had to t exaggeration, as Bellamy had to help her into the chair.

"Bellamy goes, or you stay."

Dayna looked at Blake, sighed and agreed. Bellamy guided the hover-chair out into the corridor. She glanced at Avon as they went past. His eyes were bare slits in the swollen, bruiiuiollen, bruised mask of his face, but she imagined he saw her. "I'll be back soon, Avon," she called, just in case he was listening.  
Blake watched Dayna's departure. "You could have spoken to her, Avon." He waited. After several minutes had gone by, he added, "You could speak to me." He knew Avon was awake and sulking. "Leland, you wouldn't mind giving us a moment alone." It wasn't a question.

Leland checked Avon's restraints, then went to the far side of the room. 

Blake sat up, bracing himself with one hand against his side. He took a cautious breath. "Avon. You owe me an explanation." Avon didn't reply. "You owe me for Klyn. You owe me for destroying two years of hard work. You owe me for this!" he said and he slapped at his side, ignoring the pain.

Avon finally responded. His head turned toward Blake. The glitter of eyes was barely visible. "I owe you _nothing _," Avon said. His voice was harsh and cold. "You asked to be shot. You practically _begged_ to be shot."__

__"And Klyn?"_ _

__"Who?"_ _

__"The woman you killed in the tracking gallery."_ _

__"Ah. The one who gave the alarm." Avon seemed to think about it for a moment. "Conditioned response, I'm afraid. Pavlov's dogs salivated at the sound of a bell. I shoot."_ _

__The flat, careless tones were a reminder of Avon's unnatural reactions in the tracking gallery. For the first time, Blake began to seriously consider Dayna's hints about Avon's mental state. "Are you going to try for an insanity plea at your trial?"_ _

__"Is there to be a trial? Oh, yes, of course. Blake's rabble must have a show, so they can all see how misguided I am, to have raised my hand against the great Blake. Blake could never be at fault. Saintly Blake- the almost-martyred Blake. Yes, I suppose I was mad- must have been mad, to have come to you. Orac is lost, the star-drive is destroyed, and if you imagine I'll gladly be your tame tech because you've so generously spared my life... " The glitter faded, and Avon's toneless voice dropped to a mutter, "you value it far more than I do. You'll have nothing more from me. Nothing."_ _

__"They'll kill you, and I won't be able to stop it."_ _

__"Ah. Well, then you needn't feel your usual guilt, will you?"_ _

__"It shouldn't end like this, Avon, not after all we went through together. It shouldn't end this way!" he protested, but there was no answer. Damn the man! If he kept this attitude, Blake would be hard pressed to keep him alive. And if Avon really was insane... what could they do with him then? Blake wouldn't risk others by releasing a madman, and they had no facilities to handle him properly, no psych-techs to try to unravel his mind. It might be a kindness to kill him, after all, but Blake knew it would be destroying the last bit of humanity in himself. Wearily, Blake lay down again. He wanted to sleep, to stop thinking about Avon, to put off the moment when he would have to make a decision._ _

__Leland came to Blake's bed, and said, quietly, "I'm sorry. I see he was your...friend."_ _

__Blake looked at Leland. "Perhaps. But he's forgotten that time, and so must I."_ _

__"I had a friend like him. We quarreled and sometimes we hurt each other, but we stayed friends. Until he died. I have that much comfort, that he knew I loved him."_ _

__Blake couldn't really answer. The romantic idea Leland had woven about him and Avon was slightly embarrassing, but he had no wish to throw the man's sympathy back in his face. "I'd like to sleep now," he said softly, and Leland nodded and walked away, to stand over Avon's bed, looking speculatively at the shuttered face lying against the white pillow. If Leland started spouting 'true love' stories to Avon, his life expectancy would be very short. The thought of the look on Avon's face was enough to put Blake in better humor as he fell asleep._ _

__

____

***

"Tarrant! Wake up, we have a visitor!" Vila's cheery voice rang slightly false, but no one commented on it. Bellamy pushed Dayna's hover-chair into the room where Vila and the others had been housed. It was large for a cell, but cramped for a dormitory, with three cots filling most of the space that wasn't taken up by a lavatory cubicle. There were marks where objects had been removed. Apparently it had been hastily converted from some rebel's private quarters, which argued that Blake wasn't in the habit of taking prisoners. "I'll be right outside," Bellamy said, stepping back to join the guards outsde. The door slid shut, and there was a clatter of something heavy scraping against it.

Tarrant sat up and carefully swung his legs over the side of the cot he occupied, but he didn't get up. "I'm glad to see you," he said, his dazzling grin emphasizing his words. He was bandaged about the chest and leg, but his color was good. Vila and Soolin looked a bit frazzled, but otherwise unharmed.

"It's good to see you all too," Dayna replied, grinning as she held out her hands to them all. "Bellamy said you were recovering, but I had to see for myself."

"Oh, we're all right," Tarrant said, overriding Vila's mutter of 'speak for yourself'. 

"Don't mind him," Soolin added, coming close to smile down at Dayna. "He's a bit miffed that he can't get the door open."

"They put a bloody great bar across it," Vila complained. "Crude. It's beneath my dignity."

"And beyond your strength," Tarrant added, automatically keeping up the game. "Dayna. Come here and tell us what's going on. Our jailers aren't very communicative."

Vila sat next to Tarrant, and said, "It's been three days! We're going stir-crazy! Are they going to take us out and shoot us, or what? They already did for Avon, didn't they?"

"Vila," Tarrant chided. "We don't know that, not for sure."

"I heard," Vila insisted. "I'll have you know I have very keen hearing." Vila shuddered. "They were killing him by bits and then there was a lot of shouting and then it got quiet. That could only mean one thing."

Dayna finally managed to break in to say, "It meant Doctor Bellamy got there in time. Avon's in the medical unit, with Blake. They'll both be all right."

Vila looked up. "Blake's alive? After Avon shot him full of holes?" Vila grinned. "Oh, I wouldn't want to be in Avon's shoes when Blake gets through with him."

"Vila! This is serious." Dayna shook her head. "Blake... well, he's not so bad, but ... oh, this is such a mess. Look, I think I've got Blake talked around a bit, but Avon's not even trying to be cooperative."

"When was he ever?" Tarrant sighed. "I suppose it's up to us to cooperate for him, then."

"How?" Dayna asked, puzzled.

Tarrant glanced around the room. "I don't know if we're being monitored or not."

"Not," Vila said emphatically.

Tarrant shook his head. "It doesn't really matter. We do still have one good bargaining lever."

"Oh." Dayna thought about it. "Blake hasn't even mentioned Orac."

Soolin looked dubious. "Is it really that valuable? It never seemed to do us much good."

"Blake always thought a lot of that rat-in-a-box," Vila put in.

"Well, it's all we've got, anyway." Tarrant said. "Dayna, you'll have to bargain for us. You know what we want."

"Right," Dayna nodded. "Blake gets Orac, and we get out of here. All of us."

"We'll need a ship, too. I doubt they've anything fancy, but at this point, I'm not feeling particularly choosy," Tarrant reminded her. "How is Avon, by the way, besides uncooperative? Fit for a hasty departure?"

"Not really. But he will be." There was a knock at the door, and Dayna glanced back. "I guess it's time for me to go." She leaned forward and gave Tarrant a careful hug. "Be careful. Don't upset the guards."

***

In the quiet of the medical unit Avon had time to think and to assess the current situation. He'd hit absolute rock- bottom, finally. He'd been sliding downhill ever since ... since... well, now, if you wanted to go back to the beginning... it was long before Blake, before Anna, before Tynus even- Keiller perhaps? But he'd been looking for trouble when he met Keiller. Boredom had started it all, really, that and a sense that he was meant for better things, deserved more than the pampered, dull, dome-constricted, law-abiding, Alpha's life. When you got right down to it, the only one to blame for the ruin of Kerr Avon's life was Kerr Avon himself. What really grated was how badly he'd done when he finally had the opportunity to be free of all the rules and regulations. He'd been so sure that he could manage very well on his own, so certain.

Oh, yes, he'd been so clever. His attempts at piracy, plans to recruit scientific geniuses, schemes to obtain inventions, even, as a last resort, diplomacy aimed at a military alliance... all were disasters.

He'd always derided Blake's plans, Blake's lack of a cohesive campaign, even Blake's intellect, but he found himself hopelessly floundering without Blake. 

At first he made a cursory search for Blake intending to return him to Earth, as he'd promised, before continuing on his merry way with _Liberator_. He soon realized his mistake. He wasn't a leader. He needed Blake. Once he'd fully digested that distasteful idea, he'd begun searching again, only to be tricked by Servalan. After losing _Liberator_ and Cally - oh, and Cally - he hadn't wanted to find Blake. No, not and come crawling back empty-handed, a failure. He'd put that off until there was absolutely nothing else to do. He had consoled himself that at least he had the stardrive and his own ship, however pathetic _Scorpio_ was in comparison to _Liberator_. It didn't seem Blake was doing all too well himself, so perhaps it would not be too unequal a partnership. Partnership. He'd been fooling himself. Blake's tests weren't designed to weed out Federation spies, but anyone who didn't think the way Blake did, who wouldn't make an unquestioning, loyal soldier for the cause. Avon had failed that test, of course.

He had always suspected Cally's curse about 'dying alone and silent' applied far better to him than to Blake. Blake had a knack for surrounding himself with people. Avon's skill lay in alienating them. There was a perverse comfort in knowing that much remained constant. He would die as he had lived, damning the whole universe and daring it to do its worst. He didn't want to be understood and forgiven. He'd done what he'd done. Let them think he'd gone mad. Let them think he hated Blake. Let them think he was an undercover agent for the Federation, for all he cared. Just so they killed him and had done with it.

"Would you like a drink?" A soft, deep voice, gentle in a way similar to Blake. When Blake cared to use that voice. But this was Leland, who was guarding Avon from the other rebels. Or guarding Blake from Avon. Or possibly guarding Avon from Avon.

"I would like quiet," Avon replied, and he looked at Leland, irritated at the interruption, particularly as he was glad of the distraction. He saw something disquieting in the man's expression. Pity. Leland hadn't pitied Avon after the beating and ... well, after. He remembered being retrieved from the cell where he lay in his own blood and filth. Leland had shown all the emotion of man picking up a sack of dirty laundry. What could have changed? Blake. Blake must have said something. Well, he wouldn't accept second-hand pity, either.

"Perhaps something to read?"

"No, and I wouldn't care for a nice bunch of grapes, either," Avon snapped, and to his disgust, Leland smiled and reached forward to lift Avon's head, turn the pillow over to the cool side and smooth his hair back from his face, despite Avon's attempts to avoid his touch.

"I understand. I'm short-tempered when I'm laid up, too," Leland said with a confidential air, "But you might try to see things from Blake's point of view. He is fond of you, you know."

Avon shut his eyes as Leland's message came through clearly. "Oh, for the..." Exasperated he looked over at Blake, who was either asleep or else doing a superb job of faking it. Avon looked at Leland, directly into those wide-set, soft gray eyes, and said, " I shot Blake. If he takes that for a sign of affection, he's madder than I am." That was not what he meant to say. Damn these drugs. "Go away," Avon said, rolling as much onto his side away from Leland as the restraints would allow. Mercifully, Leland went without further conversation.

***

Dayna came back to the medical unit feeling tired but cheerful. She'd received a few dirty looks from people on the way back, but for the most part everyone seemed too busy to notice her.

Bellamy took Leland aside to help with arranging supplies. They'd been packing and boxing things for days. Other rebels had stopped in to help from time to time, but mostly it was the two of them, which suited Dayna. She didn't trust any of Blake's people, but she distrusted Leland and Bellamy less than the others.

"Blake," Dayna started without preamble, taking control of the hover-chair to come to his bed-side, "Blake." She stopped when he turned to her, moved by the desolation in his face. "Oh." She put a hand out to touch his cheek. "You need something? I'll call Bellamy." She started to turn aside, but Blake caught her arm.

"Bellamy can't help. What I need..." Blake sighed deeply and looked past her, at Avon's bed. "What I need isn't in his pharmacy. I need answers." He released her arm and gave her a rueful glance. "And I need them soon. We're moving. The disappearance of that Federation squad will have been noticed. I can't... I won't endanger my secondary base. There are too many lives at stake."

Dayna nodded.

Blake's eyes went back to Avon. "I used to understand him. I thought I still knew him, but... it's as if we were speaking different languages." Blake forced a small laugh. "Avon's all hieroglyphics and I haven't got a Rosetta Stone."

"Yes, you do." Dayna reached up and took Blake's hand. "I'll translate for you." Impulsively, she drew his hand to her lips and kissed it. "You can depend on me."

Blake's smile slowly grew, and his voice deepened, rough with emotion. "That's the best offer I've had in years."

Dayna laughed. "And I've another offer." She turned serious. "I've talked with the others. We're willing to trade you Orac for a ship and free passage for _all_ of us." she said bluntly. 

"No!" Avon shouted, claiming everyone's attention. Bellamy stopped pretending to count syringes, and Leland stopped pretending to check the quantities against an inventory list.

Dayna looked back over her shoulder at Avon. "Be sensible, Avon."

"I am. Blake will release you eventually. His inflated moral sense won't permit him to persecute the innocent. With Orac's help, the four of you should be easily able to get another ship."

"The four of us?" Dayna questioned.

Avon laughed harshly. "In case it has escaped your notice, I am not likely to be going anywhere."

"You'll recover," Dayna assured him.

"Will I? Ask Blake."

Dayna felt Blake's hand tighten on hers. "Blake?" she turned to him, questioning. 

Blake said, "Avon killed Klyn. He tried to kill me. He doesn't even feel remorse. Suppose I forgive him and let him go? My people would never accept it. If I don't give them justice, they'll take it."

Leland and Bellamy exchanged glances.

Avon nodded, a faint smile playing about his lips. "As I surmised. Your rabble have you, and not the other way around."

"But aren't they loyal to your rebellion?" Dayna asked.

"Any of them would die for it, without question," Blake replied, "But I can't ask them to forgive the murder of one of their own simply because the murderer was once my friend."

"You wouldn't be doing it for friendship. You'd be buying Orac, and you know what Orac's worth to you. Isn't your rebellion more important than any one person?"

Blake rubbed his lips with his free hand, considering. After a long moment, he replied,"Klyn was willing to die for freedom. Avon should be punished for her death, but perhaps he's suffered enough. I'll accept your bargain." It wouldn't be the first time someone had to die to gain an advantage, and usually it was far less than Orac would provide.

"No!" Avon shouted again and began lunging against his restraints. Leland held him down while Bellamy injected a sedative. Avon's protests faded into silence. 

Blake squeezed Dayna's hand again, then released it. "You've saved his life, but he won't thank you for it."

Dayna shrugged. "As long as he's alive to be angry with me."

"You love him," Blake stated. He looked particularly melancholy in that moment.

"Do I?" Dayna asked. She used the hover chair to get even closer to Blake to whisper, "I don't want to talk about Avon any more."

Her breath was warm on his cheek, and her eyes were warm, too. Blake had thought her beautiful before when she was angry with him, but now he was moved to tenderness. In the closeness of the moment, it seemed only natural to kiss her as an expression of affection for an endearing child, but her enthusiasm had nothing of the child in it. Blake's heart raced as he found himself responding, and an alarm went off. Bellamy was there in seconds, grumbling and administering a sedative. Blake's last clear vision was of Dayna's wicked grin and his last clear thought one of surprise at emotions he thought long laid to rest.

***

Given safe conduct on Blake's authority, Vila and Soolin retrieved Orac from its hiding place in a hollow tree just outside the base. They were escorted by well-armed rebels against the possibility that the Federation had agents already in place.

"Well, here he is," Vila said, depositing the computer on a table beside Blake's bed. "I hope the two of you will be very happy together."

"I'd be happier if I had the key," Blake commented.

"Avon had it," Vila said. He looked back at Avon. Bellamy had repaired most of the physical damage, even replacing the missing teeth, so Avon looked outwardly much the same as usual. Avon stared coldly at Vila, but said nothing. "In his vest pocket," Vila added, figuring that if he might as well hang for a sheep as a lamb.

Soolin said nothing. She was quietly observing the interactions among the others. She noted Dayna's ease around Blake as well as Avon's sullen anger. Leland she classified as neutral at worst and possibly friendly. He had actually smiled at Avon. She was still puzzling over that.

"Bellamy," Blake asked, while looking at Avon, willing some change of expression.

"He had nothing," Bellamy replied.

_Nothing, indeed,_ Avon thought. He'd been stripped of all his possessions, even his dignity. The rebels had ripped his clothes off because one of them thought they would be good souvenirs, making no concesssion for broken bones in the process. Unfortunately passing out from pain was less likely than one would imagine. He remained conscious even after his naked body suggested a game so diverting they forgot about portioning out his belongings amongst themselves. 

One thing about Federation interrogators- they maintained a professional attitude. He had been raped by interrogators, but it was merely one more technique to them. They didn't accuse him of betrayal while they rode his body, or spit in his face after they'd orgasmed inside him. 

Leland cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him as he said, "I can find the vest." 

Yes, Leland would know. He'd used it to wipe blood away so that he could see where to grip to lift Avon.

Leland returned in a few minutes with the key. Blake inserted it and listened to Orac's operating hum for a few seconds, then said, "Orac. This is Blake. Do you remember me?"

"Of course I do. I am incapable of forgetting. Unlike organic memory retrieval methods, my tarriel cells are never faulty."

"That's one advantage we have over you, Orac," Blake replied. "Sometimes it's better to forget." In the natural way, at least. Blake wouldn't recommend a therapeutic mind-wipe to anyone.

Orac merely 'harumphed' at that remark. "If you have nothing worthwhile to discuss with me, I suggest you turn me off."

"I'd love to turn you off," Vila muttered. "Permanently."

"Orac," Blake said, "I do have a job for you. We are moving to a new base." He gave the coordinates of the new base and then said, "Monitor all Federation frequencies for any mention of Gauda Prime or anything that could possibly relate to us."

"Your parameters are ill-defined," Orac protested.

"I'll put it in simpler term, then. If there is any chance of the Federation finding us, either here, or at the new base, report it at once."

"Very well."

Blake slipped the key out and held it while he considered what his next move should be.

"That's it?" Bellamy asked. "I thought Orac was something special."

"Oh, it is," Blake said. "Provided you know how to use it." Blake put the key back in, but immediately forgot what he was intending to ask Orac as the computer spoke without waiting for him.

"This base has been uncovered! Federation troops are on the way. I estimate no more than six hours before the first ship arrives on Gauda Prime."

"First ship?" Vila yelped. "How many are there?"

"Flotilla Nine consists of eight vessels- three are troop carriers."

"How many troopers is that?" Vila asked.

"Too many," Blake replied. He sat up and reached for the communications link at his bedside. "Deva!" he snapped, barely waiting for a reply. "Condition Red! Complete evacuation now!" He turned back to Orac, and demanded, "Is the secondary base safe?"

"Possibly."

"Orac!" 

"There is no indication that the Federation is currently aware of the existence of your secondary base. However, I can make no guarantees for the future."

Blake began plucking out the remaining lines tethering him to the monitoring equipment. 

Bellamy moved in to help. "So much for my ten days."

"I'm sorry the Federation wasn't more accommodating," Blake said while untangling himself.

"The medical unit isn't properly set up at the other base," Bellamy fretted. "There won't be time to move everything."

Blake grunted as he lowered himself into the hover-chair. "I'll have Deva assign you extra transport. You have your priority list- follow it."

Bellamy nodded, half-ran to a computer and began printing out the list.

"And where are we on your priority list?" Vila asked.

Deep in thought, Blake ignored Vila as he put Orac on his lap and swept out of the medical unit, picking up Leland with a glance.

"Not very high, Vila," Vila answered his own question. 

"Blake has more important things than you on his mind," Dayna said, defensively.

Soolin looked amused. "Yes, apparently," she replied. "For instance, he forgot to leave a guard on us. I could be insulted."

Bellamy returned, carrying a stack of cartons. He thrust them into Soolin's arms. "There's a hover-pallet in the corridor." When Soolin stared at him, he said, "Please?" then turned back and began making up another load. 

Soolin smiled and said, "Oh,well, since you asked nicely." She started for the corridor. "Vila," she said softly, "before you get dragooned, go fetch Tarrant. I think we'd be better off all together. Just in case someone remembers us."

Reluctantly Vila got behind the hover-chair that was beside Dayna's bed. "What about the guards?"

"I'll go with you," Dayna said while getting into the hover-chair. "I have Blake's authority for Tarrant's release." She held up a small disk.

"I'm impressed," Vila said. "How did you get it?"

"I smiled nicely and asked for it." 

"I'll have to try that," Vila replied. "Um, Dayna. I don't see another hover-chair. I don't think Tarrant can walk."

"We'll figure something out."

"That'll be fun. Are you going to sit on his lap, or is he going to sit on yours?" As he passed Soolin Vila rolled his eyes in Avon's general direction. 

Soolin nodded. She deposited the cartons on the pallet, then returned. Bellamy was occupied, checking items off his list. Soolin went to Avon and began undoing the restraints and removing the medical links after shutting down the machines.

"Why bother?" Avon asked quietly.

"Well," Soolin replied, while she continued unstrapping, "I don't think the bed will fit in a flier."

Avon ignored her attempt at humor. "Why not just leave me here?"

"That's not an option." Soolin found a robe, helped him to sit up and slipped it on him.

"On the contrary, it is the simplest answer." If Blake and Bellamy were suitably distracted, it might even be possible. By the time they finished unpacking and noticed the absence of one black sheep, Avon ought to have escaped- one way or another.

"I didn't think you'd go for the easy way out." Soolin was coolly unsympathetic. "Besides, it would upset Dayna, which would be a shame right now."

Avon didn't comment.

"I'm rather fond of her. I'd like her to have a chance at a normal relationship." Watching Dayna watching Blake had been diverting. They both thought they were being subtle. 

Avon's face twitched and the corner of his mouth rose a fraction. "With Blake? You do believe in fantasy, after all."

"Dayna does. Did you ever hear her tell the story of 'sleeping beauty'?" Soolin quirked a grin. "Her version is very interesting."

Avon sighed. Looking pointedly around the chamber, he said, "I'm _not_ going to sit on Tarrant's lap."

"I think I'll go help the doctor," Soolin said diplomatically.

***

As it turned out, Tarrant could walk, albeit slowly and with one arm wrapped around Vila's shoulders. "Avon." Tarrant smiled at him as they entered the medical unit behind Dayna's chair. "I'm actually glad to see you. You don't look too bad."

Avon inclined his head. "Neither do you."

"You shouldn't be on that leg," Bellamy said, depositing a stack of supplies on a table. "Sit and let me check it."

"It's fine," Tarrant said.

Vila hauled him over to the indicated chair anyway. "Easy for you to say, I'm the one who's breaking his back hauling you around. Sit," Vila said firmly, pushing him down into the chair.

Tarrant gazed up at Vila, annoyed. "Just because you've got two good legs..."

"And a bit of sense between my ears. Won't do any of us any good if you collapse heroically."

***

"Blake sent me."

Bellamy looked up from fastening a fresh bandage on Tarrant's leg to see Leland. "Good. You can start with..." he pointed to several large pieces of medical equipment.

Leland shook his head. "I'm to take Avon and his bunch." As protests started, Leland spread his hands. "To the first shuttle leaving..." He glanced at his chronometer. "In eight minutes."

"Well, at least he didn't forget us," Vila said.

"Of course Blake wouldn't forget us,Vila," Dayna said. She wheeled her hover-chair around. "It was thoughtful of him to give us first priority."

Leeland looked at Avon. "Blake wanted to be sure you were all settled in first."

"Ah. Before the rest of Blake's rabble. In particular before that segment which may feel it has unfinished business with me," Avon commented.

Leeland nodded. "Bring a couple more hover-chairs," he told Bellamy.

"There are no more.They went on to the secondary base days ago."

"Vila will carry Dayna then, and Tarrant can take her chair," Leeland decided. He looked at Avon, speculatively.

"I'll walk," Avon said, getting unsteadily to his feet.

"Not fast enough." Leland stepped forward and casually picked Avon up. As he was roughly Gan's height and build, this posed no problem for him. 

"I would prefer to walk," Avon said, showing his teeth in a grimace of discomfort, more mental than physical.

"I'd prefer it, too," Leland said, "but not badly enough to miss that shuttle. Bellamy, Blake's sending some people to help you. He says you go in one hour, no matter what."

"All right, all right," Bellamy agreed reluctantly. "Oh, what about Deva?"

"He's scheduled for the last shuttle. He and Blake are coordinating."

"Wonderful. They'll both be collapsed all over my new medical unit. I'd better stock up on tranquilizers."

"To keep them in bed?" Leeland asked.

"No. For me."

***

"I wish I was flying this crate." Tarrant looked at Leland, who was suffering acutely from air-sickness as the overladen shuttle lurched, losing altitude rapidly and sending unsecured cargo tumbling around its passengers.

Soolin shook her head minutely.

Tarrant followed her gaze to Dayna and Avon. They could take over the shuttle, but with three of them injured it wasn't likely they'd get very far. Vila wasn't likely to be that much help, and Soolin couldn't do it all. At the moment, their best option was to lie low and hope Blake kept his word. He wasn't happy about that, not after their traumatic introduction. 

Then there was the simple fact that he was the only one of his group who had any experience of working within a military organization. The rest were loners; loners, hell, they were asocial anarchists- particularly Avon. Avon was subdued at the moment, but he couldn't count on that lasting. There was going to be trouble, that was the one thing he could count on. This was not going to be fun.

His head snapped as the shuttle lurched again, and he thought that Blake could certainly use some decent pilots.

***

"I'll do better in my own quarters," Blake told Bellamy the next day in the new medical unit. "Either you check me out of here, or I do it myself."

"Why do you even bother having a doctor, when you won't listen to him," Bellamy grumbled as he ran a quick scan over Blake.

"'I'll listen to you when I have time." 

"And what about us?" Dayna asked. "Avon and I, we're bored." 

Avon didn't agree or disagree with her. He didn't really care where he was. All he wanted was some quiet time in which to think. He desperately craved privacy, but he'd given up on that long ago. 

Blake said, "Avon is never bored. He's too clever for that, aren't you, Avon?"

Avon's eyelashes flickered and he considered a comeback, but he refused to allow Blake the satisfaction. "As you say." He kept his head down and considered his hands, folded and lying neatly in his lap. They were clever hands, once, but they'd spent too much time forming fists and drawing weapons. He'd grown calloused in places he ought to have protected and kept supple. "But Dayna isn't, by her own admission."

"Are you saying you want me out of here?" Dayna asked, sharply.

Avon slowly raised his head. "I merely note that you would prefer Blake's company and he seems not entirely adverse to the idea." Avon gave Blake a slow, cold stare. "Unfortunately for your tastes, she is not quite the child she appears." Avon showed his teeth as Blake paled in reaction. "Ah. You did say those charges were false."

Dayna was appalled. "Avon!" 

Avon turned his gaze on her. "Just a word of warning. Blake isn't what he appears to be either."

Blake shouted at Avon, "Enough! I'll not play your sick little games any more."

"Why, Blake," Avon said smoothly, "I'm astonished. You're so very good at them. You play 'Traitor' particularly well."

Blake lifted one fist, aching to smash it into Avon's grinning devil's mask. After a moment he lowered his arm. "I know what you want, but I won't do it, Avon. Live with the guilt," he growled, his breath hot in Avon's face. 

Dayna looked down at Avon, contemptuously. "I'd not thought you were a coward or cruel, Avon. I'll be leaving now." She took Blake's arm. The two of them walked slowly and steadily out of the medical unit without looking back.

Once they were in his quarters, Blake said, "I'll have a room prepared for you near your friends. I told Deva to assign them something close to the medical unit."

"No, actually, I quite like this room." Dayna sat down on the bed and stretched, provocatively. Since both of them were wearing thin disposable robes over equally thin disposable gowns, the view left little to the imagination. "Avon was right about a few things. I'm no child, and I would enjoy your company."

"I don't think so." Blake smiled. "Although it's kind of you..."

"Kind! Kind!" Dayna got to her feet and stalked Blake. "I want you!"

Blake backed up a step, then held his ground. "Hero worship is no basis for..."

Dayna laughed. "No, not that. And you're not a father-figure either. And in case you're worried about my innocence, don't." She yanked at the tie on her gown and let it slide down her arms. Bellamy and the regenerator had done a good job; there wasn't a mark on her.

"Avon?" Blake asked, even as Dayna's hands reached him and began slipping the robe off his shoulders. He really ought to stop her, but it had been such a long time since anyone had wanted Roj Blake, the man. Such a long time since he had affirmed life. It was her choice, he argued to quiet his inner voice. His eyes closed briefly as she reached up around his neck to undo the ties, pressing her warm, firm body along his. _I'm old and scarred, inside and out._ He didn't want to see Dayna's reaction. It might be disgust, or worse, pity. After a moment though, he couldn't stand the suspense, and looked at her. She had stepped back and was examining him from head to foot, with an avid intensity that relieved his fears.

"No," Dayna said, sounding wistful. "Not Avon, but I have had lovers. Not recently, though." She got one leg behind Blake's knee and pushed so he std so he sthind Blake's knee and pushed so he staggered up against the bed. "Since you're such a poor, pitiful old man, I'll be gentle with you."

Blake was quite sure this was a very bad idea. It would be bad for base morale, bad for Dayna, and ultimately bad for him once she tired of him and sought out a man her own age. He did try to explain this, but his hands were abruptly full of warm young woman, and his mind was full of an old, familiar fire.  
Dayna artfully tumbled Blake onto his back on the bed and sat up astride him, breath coming fast, making her generous breasts bounce. He reached up to fondle them and Dayna leaned forward, pushing into his caresses. "Yes," she murmured, "I like that. You have such nice, big hands." She wriggled against his erect penis, and sighed, "And that's nice, too."

Blake chuckled. "I'm glad I meet with your approval." He ran his thumbs over her nipples, teasing lightly until they pushed back at him, demanding more. 

"You should be. I have very high standards." She lay down along Blake's length, trapping his cock between them as she nuzzled his neck. "That bit's good," she said. "Let's see what it's like over here." She shifted to take his full lips in hers.

Blake's arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him as he moved beneath her. He took her mouth eagerly, sucking and licking the sweet newness of her, the sheer joy of her. "Dayna, you are so beautiful," he said as he lifted his head for a breath.

"Yes, I know. What are you going to do about it?"

Blake laughed and sent his hands down to smooth over her buttocks. "What would you suggest?"

"Surprise me."

Blake heaved up suddenly, reversing their positions. "Like this?" he asked as he moved in between her widespread legs and knelt to kiss her inner thigh, licking a trail up to her moist, fragrant center.

"Oooh, yes." Dayna flung her legs up to catch Blake around the waist. "Lovely. But it tickles," she complained.

"What?" Blake glanced up.

"Your beard," Dayna replied, breathlessly. "It's scratchy."

"Hmm." Blake appeared lost in thought, several of his fingers apparently having accidentally found their way inside Dayna and begun wriggling about without any orders from him. "Then you'd prefer something else?"

"Um." Dayna arched back in response to the fingers, then looked at Blake and said, "You're getting warmer."

"Yes. I am," Blake's voice had deepened to a subterranean rumble. He'd held out as long as he could. He grasped his penis and guided it to Dayna. "Ah."

Dayna's legs clenched around him, the heel of one foot digging into his buttocks. "Oh, yes, Blake, yes."

Blake paused and looked down at her. "Roj. Call me Roj." He began thrusting in earnest.

"Roj. Roj. Ohhh, Roj!" she moaned and worked her hips up and down, urging him to greater effort. "More! Yes!" she shrieked as Blake pushed harder and faster, smacking his heavy body against her with more force. She clawed at his back, demanding even more. "Harder! Give it to me, Roj!" 

Blake grunted, beyond words, put his head down and pumped, driving his hips on until he thought he would go right through her. She was so hot and slick around him, it was driving him mad. Suddenly she stopped, clamped down on his buried flesh, and shrieked before collapsing back on the bed, her legs sliding loose. Blake didn't stop, couldn't have stopped if his life depended on it. 

Dayna moaned softly as he continued working in her, gasping as he seemed to engorge even more. She was so full, so stretched taut she thought she would burst. She wondered if you could die of ecstasy. "Oooh, Roj," she groaned as the heavy body pounded against her,

Abruptly, Blake shouted, grabbed her hips and held her tight against himself as his control broke and he came. He lay on her for a while, until he felt her hands pushing at him then he pulled himself out and rolled off of her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, belatedly realizing that she had been wounded. His own injuries were giving him a few twinges in reminder.

Dayna looked at him, and a huge grin spread across her face. "I'm all right. You're marvelous."

"But your side..." Blake was beginning to feel guilty. After all, Dayna was young and vulnerable. Had he, subconsciously, taken advantage?

She stretched her arms out and pulled Blake close for a quick kiss. "We were following doctor's orders," she said playfully, "Bellamy did advise bed-rest." She yawned. "Get the covers, Blake."

Obeying, Blake paused. "Blake?"

Dayna opened one eye and shrugged. "I don't want to get too used to it and call you Roj accidentally. How would it look to your people?"

"I don't give a damn how it looks. Unless," he paused, "unless you'd rather your friends didn't know?" He could understand that.

Dayna grinned again. "Oh, no. They'd be impressed." She yawned again. "But right now, I'm cold. Come hold me, Roj."

Blake lay down beside her, and snuggled under the covers. She gave him an absent-minded hug, and fell asleep. _I really ought to get up, take a shower, and direct ... isn't fair to Deva to leave him all the work... maybe in a few minutes..._ and Blake fell asleep cuddled next to Dayna.

***

It was quieter in the medical unit. Avon was annoyed that, paradoxically, now he couldn't sleep because it was too quiet, without the rhythms of breathing from the two cots nearest to his own. Bellamy was there, of course, busy arranging equipment, making up lists of all the things he'd have to replace, and handling the day-to-day minor illnesses and injuries of a base full of unsanitary and incautious rebels.

Leland was also there. He'd come to help carry supplies, seen that Blake and Dayna were gone and apparently invented yet another romantic tale of love gone wrong to account for it. 

Avon wanted to be alone. Out of all the ambitions and goals that had motivated him, that was the only one left. It seemed about as unlikely that he would attain it as any of the others.

***

Blake escorted Dayna to the refectory later. Tarrant, Soolin and Vila were sitting together facing the entrance, expectantly.

"Hullo, Blake!" Vila called out. "Sleep well?" He waggled his eyebrows. 

Soolin sighed. "Really, Vila. I thought we discussed this. We were going to be discreet."

"That was discreet!" Vila objected. 

Blake turned to Dayna with a smile. "I see I've been set up," he said, regretting it the instant he heard himself.

Dayna looked embarrassed and there was an awkward silence, then Tarrant spoke up. "Dayna called us earlier. She thought we might have been worried about her."

"And were you?" Blake asked, unconsciously shifting his weight so that he was between Dayna and Tarrant.

"No, actually, we were a bit concerned about you," Tarrant replied. "After all, if you were to die of ... over-exertion, where would we be?"

"Deva would honor our bargain. You'll get your ship."

"And Avon." 

Blake put his hands on the table by Tarrant, bringing their faces close together. "As we agreed. Once the ship is ready..."

"Ready?" Tarrant said sharply. "I was told you had a fully serviceable ship."

"We do. It's a vital part of our organization, keeping a supply line open."

"And what about us?"

"We had two ships. One was damaged. We're short on skilled personnel, so its repair was never a priority. It will be now."

"And in the meantime?"

"I'll allow you the freedom of the base, so long as you don't abuse it." 

"And Avon?"

"He'll stay in the medical unit."

"As what- a prisoner, a hostage for our behavior?"

"For his own safety."

Tarrant shook his head. "It's not good for him never to have a moment to himself."

Blake rubbed his chin, remembering _Liberator,_ and how sometimes Avon would shut himself in his cabin for days, either contemplating his sins or planning future ones. Slowly, Blake nodded. "All right. I'll tell Bellamy. But Avon will first swear not to cause any trouble and not to attempt to leave the base." 

Blake pushed himself upright. "It's not a particularly good time to see the sights on Gauda Prime. We're expecting Federation observers. It would be inconvenient if they should happen to observe you. After all, we're trying to live down our reputation as mercenaries and terrorists." He matched Tarrant's cold stare with his own.

"If the two of you are quite finished pawing the ground," Dayna said, while tapping a foot in annoyance, "I'd like to eat and get something to wear."

"Why? What's wrong with what you've got on?" Vila asked, looking with admiration at the beribboned red blouse and matching red velvet pants she was wearing. Blake was looking better, too. He'd shaved and bathed, and put on a plain white shirt, tan leather vest and heavy brown trousers. He still had the 'bounty hunter' scar, but the rest was Roj Blake, rebel leader.

"This isn't my style." Having heard a few stories about life on the _Liberator_ Dayna had a strong suspicion who'd previously owned the feminine wardrobe that shared space in Blake's closet. She didn't think Jenna's shade would begrudge Dayna's attempts to make Blake happy, but it didn't seem proper to wear her clothes, too.

***

The ship they were expected to repair was camouflaged under the forest canopy half an hour's surface flight away from Blake's new base. Tarrant knew where he was in relation to where he'd been, but since he didn't know where the base was, he was still effectively lost. Well, he wasn't going anywhere without the others anyway. Soolin was unofficially guarding Avon, who was suspiciously quieter than normal. Dayna and Vila were 'circulating'. Vila was trying to make friends and discover sources of relaxants, while Tarrant strongly suspected Dayna was hunting the rebels who had tortured Avon. Tarrant didn't think she'd have any luck, as Avon refused to give any description of his attackers, probably intending to kill them later himself. Tarrant wanted desperately to get his people away before another disaster struck and now that he'd seen the ship, his heart sank. "This is it? You've got to be kidding."

Blake's face was expressionless. "It was a good ship once."

Tarrant shook his head and continued walking around the flight deck of the 'damaged' space vessel, poking and prodding at the heaps of exposed circuitry. "The engines are gone. The stabilizers are fried. The nav. computer and its linkages are blown. What I can't understand is how it managed a landing at all."

"She was a very good pilot." Blake looked at the blood-stains covering the deck near the pilot's position.

"Ah." Jenna. This must have been Jenna's ship. Hadn't Blake told him she'd blown it up? Well, actually, looking at what was left of the thing, it was a wonder it hadn't blown up. He had to admire the courage and skill it had taken to return this crippled craft to Blake. "She must have been," he acknowledged. "But Blake, this ship needs a complete overhaul in dock."

"There's only one space repair dock on Gauda Prime.They'd raise too many questions, even even if we could afford to pay them- which we can't."

Tarrant had to admit there was no disguising the tell-tale marks of weapons' fire on the hull. The gaping wounds had been quite professionally sealed, but the rainbow glitter of crystallized thermo-coating was unmistakable. It was actually a pretty effect, unless you knew what caused it. 

"I saw your ship," Blake commented.

Tarrant stiffened. "Yes, you did at that."

"The superstructure was a total loss, but I think you could salvage what you need for this ship."

"Possibly." Tarrant winced at the thought of gutting poor old _Scorpio_. It was the only answer, but it was going to take time he really didn't think they had to spare. He leaned heavily on the cane Vila had found for him somewhere, allowing himself a brief moment of self-indulgent despair. "I suppose we'll have to." Turning to exit the ship, he had a thought and paused, looking back. "Blake?"

"Yes?"

"Did this ship have a name?"

"Yes," Blake's answer was flat. He met Tarrant's gaze. "But it wouldn't suit you. Find a new one."

***

"Run here, Vila, fetch that, Vila," Vila muttered as he leaned over to pick up one piece of electronic whatzit and dropped several more.  
"Do you ever quit complaining?" Blake was electro-bonding the housing for the salvaged computer into place. It was a finicky job as 'Slave' was non-standard and every one of its couplings had to be hand-matched. Few of his people had the skill to do it, and he wasn't entirely sure they wouldn't sabotage the ship that would carry Avon. Dayna shared his living quarters, but she still had strong loyalties to her old crewmates. She might go with them and if she did, he wouldn't have her die because of one of his followers. So he stole precious time from the rebellion to play engineer once more.

Vila looked up from the pile of components. "I would if there weren't so many things to complain about. I would if I were surrounded by pretty girls, with a tall glass of something cool in my hand. I would if ..."

"All right, Vila," Soolin said, "We get the general idea." She wasn't a repair technician, but she'd switched places with Tarrant for the day so their resident pilot could try to talk sense into their resident computer technician back at Blake's base. She wished him luck. She'd much rather be on this miserably hot and dirty job, trying to guide linkages through conduit in their as yet unnamed ship than arguing with Avon. Blake could do a fair sullen glower, and Vila's whine was an acquired taste, but Avon- Avon was the champion at sulking.

***

"Are you, or are you not going to help?" Tarrant demanded. He was standing over Avon, who was sitting at a shabby table littered with electronic bits and make-shift tools. He thrust a circuit board at Avon, trying to get his attention by sheer nuisance value.After being released from the medical unit, Avon had been assigned, at his request, quarters as far away from his old crew as possible. At first Tarrant thought it was simply out of pique for the loss of Orac, but it was beginning to seem more serious than that. Avon was sitting in the dark, hands folded in his lap. Oh, not literally, but that was the impression Tarrant got. Avon ate, mechanically. He worked on whatever Tarrant brought him, without enthusiasm. He listened to the ideas Tarrant and the others had for their future, but he made few comments.

Even his sarcasm seemed blunted. He couldn't even manage to drive Leland away. Vila had commented that Leland reminded him of Gan, but Tarrant couldn't imagine it was nostalgia that kept Avon from being too hard on the fellow. Tarrant lost track of the number of times he'd seen Leland come by with a plate of hot food, or a drink, or a humorous story that was making the rounds. Avon never laughed, but he didn't throw the food back in Leland's face, either. Leland never stayed long, but he always came back. Perhaps Avon admired persistence.

"I thought I was helping," Avon said, exchanging a repaired board for the damaged one and waving at a box full of similarly repaired boards.

"Not this. You could do this in your sleep." 

"Then what do you want?" Avon put down the board and the laser probe.

"I need you on the ship. In fact, I think it would be best if you stayed on the ship." The living quarters were still demolished, so they had set up cots, although usually they returned to base when they were too tired to work, or too hungry. The food preparation machinery on the ship was limited and not entirely reliable, either. Still, he'd feel happier if Avon was on the ship. The atmosphere on Blake's base couldn't be good for him. People stopped talking when Avon entered the room, or else they whispered and wouldn't look at him. Even a totally insensitive egotist had to be affected by that treatment and if Avon's control ever broke there'd be hell to pay. Only Avon stubbornly refused to even visit the ship so long as there was the possibility of encountering Blake. He avoided Blake on the base as well, refusing to stay in the same room with the man. It was childish and annoying, but since Blake didn't want to see Avon either, no one commented on it.

Avon stiffened. "I don't think so. It sounds too crowded for my taste."

"Look, Blake is doing a lot, but there are things that are in your line, not his, or mine."

"Fine. When he is through, I'll go to the ship."

"I won't let your petulance kill us all."

"Petulance." Avon's mouth twisted. "Is that what you call it?" He picked up the board and began touching the probe to it, seemingly at random.

"I call it that to be polite. Frankly, Avon, I can't understand your attitude. I'd think you'd see that our only chance is that ship, and the sooner it's repaired, the better. Or do you enjoy sitting here hiding in a dark corner of Blake's base?"

Avon gripped the circuit board so tightly that it snapped. He blinked, and looked down at the pieces in his hands. "Enjoy? No, I wouldn't say I find it particularly pleasurable."

Then you'll come to the ship."

"Yes." Avon took another board and lowered his head to examine it. "When Blake isn't on it."

"And what if that's too late?"

Avon picked up the laser probe. "Then it will be too late."

"You've grown fatalistic in your old age. It doesn't suit you."

Avon put down the probe and looked up, meeting Tarrant's eyes for the first time. "I've given up expecting anything to suit me." He rubbed at his eyes and said, in a weary voice, "All right. If and when you do have something which calls for my expertise, I will go to the ship."

"Thank you." Tarrant disliked this sudden acquiescence. Either Avon was planning something, or else he wasn't up to arguing, which was a bizarre concept. Impulsively, he put his hand out and squeezed Avon's shoulder. He wanted to add an encouraging word, but when Avon looked up at him he could find nothing that would answer that bleak non-expression. Instead he simply squeezed Avon's shoulder again and left.

***

"Avon's depressed," Tarrant said. He'd gathered his old crew together on the flight deck of their new ship. Blake was puzzling over the star-drive, which should keep his attention long enough for their little meeting.

"So what else is new?" Vila remarked. "It's thinking too much that does it."

Dayna said, "Oh, well, in that case, you should always be in high spirits."

"Oh, I am, I am. Particularly when some high spirits are in me."

Soolin frowned at Tarrant. "I expect he's just sulking because things haven't gone his way."

"Maybe," Tarrant said, doubtfully, "but I just don't sense he's paying much attention to survival at the moment. And it's not the safest situation back on Blake's base."

Dayna thought about the black looks the rebels gave Avon on the rare occasions he left his quarters. "You're right, someone should watch his back. But we can't spare anyone from the work for long. We could take turns, I suppose." 

"I think Leland has already taken the job," Soolin said.

"Um. I think Leland... well, he likes Avon," Vila said. There was silence for a moment. "Really, really likes him."  
"We had noticed," Dayna said, dryly, "but Avon doesn't seem to mind. I mean..."

There was an even longer silence.

Soolin said, "I don't know why we're arguing about this. Avon won't let anyone look after him. He tolerates Leland because he finds it useful to have someone to run errands for him. Leland puts up with Avon's attitude because he's smitten with him." She tossed her braid back over her shoulder. "So no matter what we say, Leland will try to look after Avon. I'm going back to work. I'll be glad when we're away from G.P."

Dayna said, "Yes, I expect you will." 

Soolin caught the phrasing and asked,"Have you made up your mind to stay with Blake, then?"

"I don't know." Dayna shook her head. "I like him and I might even love him, but I'm not sure if it's the sensible thing to do." She chewed at her lower lip for a moment. "He says he loves me, but..."

"Maybe," Tarrant said gently, "you ought to let things cool off a bit. Sex isn't everything."

All three stared at Tarrant in surprise. "Funny, that's not what you said that time we shared that bottle of brandy," Vila muttered.

"Or when we were trapped in that cave," Dayna added.

Soolin put in, "Or on more than one long, late-watch shift."

Tarrant reddened slightly, then grinned. "All right, so I'm generous and I like to share."

"Ever share with Avon?" Dayna speculated. She'd known about Soolin and Tarrant, but Vila had come as a revelation. She looked at Vila, then back at Tarrant, trying to picture the scene. Her mental image was so cute, she chuckled.

Tarrant's blush deepened. "Er. Um. I think we'd better get back to work now, before Blake gets suspicious." He left the room hastily, but not quickly enough to avoid hearing the laughter. He groaned to himself and prayed to the gods he didn't believe in that none of the others would repeat this conversation to Avon.

***

When Blake arrived back at his quarters at the base that evening his quarters at the base that evening his desk computer was blinking. Dayna had left him a message that she was helping Avon and wouldn't be able to dine with him. He frowned but lay down on his bed intending to catch some sleep. It wasn't as if he had any right to be jealous. He hadn't asked Dayna to bond with him, or even to set any parameters to their relationship.

Blake turned off the light and lay there, staring into the dark, becoming more angry the longer he thought about Avon. Avon always got off scot-free, no matter how petty and obstructionist he was. Here Blake was, devoting time he could ill spare from his cause, in order to work on Avon's ship, and Avon acted as if Blake had done _him_ an injury. He was tired of seeing Avon's back swiftly turned whenever he chanced upon him in the corridors, of watching Avon's crew make excuses for Avon not coming out to work on their ship. It was childish, and it could be dangerous.

He got up, put the light on and headed for the door. He had things to say to Avon and he was using up a lot of energy not saying them. 

 

Dayna was sitting beside Avon when the door to his room opened. She halted in mid-description of Vila's late-night encounter with the seven-foot tall chef who'd discovered the loss of his cooking liquor, startled to see Blake standing in the open doorway. "Blake?" She got up. "Didn't you get my message?"

"Yes." Blake came into the room and stared down at Avon. Unable to physically retreat, Avon had withdrawn mentally, keeping his eyes on the circuitry he was repairing. "You're helping Avon. That's kind of you. I'm sure he needs a great deal of help."

Avon didn't react outwardly, but Blake was gratified to see a minute tremble in his hands.

Dayna came to Blake and put her hands lightly on his chest. "I'm about due for a meal-break. Avon could spare me for a few minutes."

Blake firmly but gently put her aside. "Avon?"

Avon finally looked up. "Yes," he told Blake flatly. "I can manage without her assistance." He showed his teeth. "Easily."

Blake leaned forward and took the circuitry from Avon's unresisting fingers. He glanced at it. "Yes, you always were good with machines." He tossed the circuit to the table with a clatter. "In fact, you're so good at it that a delay won't matter. You'll eat with us." He noted that Avon had lost weight and sleep, too, if those dark smudges under his eyes were any indication. 

"Will I?" Avon's eyes drifted back to the circuits.

"Yes." 

Avon shook his head, more a reflexive jerk than an answer. "In the refectory?" His voice broke.

"My quarters." Blake was no sadist. He wouldn't bully Avon in front of his supporters. 

Avon nodded, his expression bleak. He got up and brushed at his dull khaki trousers. Like everything else he had, they were borrowed. Borrowed clothes, borrowed tools, borrowed time. He didn't want to do this, but since he existed only on Blake's sufferance, he hadn't a choice. 

"This way," Blake said.

Dayna gave Avon a worried glance, then moved to Blake's side. Dayna had apparently made the sensible choice. Avon couldn't fault her for it. Blake could give her the things she needed, the warm emotional considerations Avon had never mastered. Who knows, with Blake she might actually live long enough to kill Servalan. He followed Blake silently, stoically ignoring reactions from the rebels they passed, although he couldn't help stumbling when he recognized one of the faces. Blake glanced back and Avon recovered his stride. How much farther was Blake's room? Well, Avon had requested isolated quarters. Doubtless Blake was in the very center of his 'family' where he could appease the disgruntled, comfort the bereaved, and encourage the down-hearted. 

By the time they reached Blake's quarters, the parade of hostile faces had helped Avon lose his appetite entirely.

"I'll have them send up our meals," Blake said, reaching reaching for the com-unit near his bed.

_How unegalitarian of you,_ Avon thought. 

"The stew is usually very good," Dayna said, looking from one man to the other.

"Avon?" Blake asked, "Any preference?"

Avon gave a sideways jerk of his head. "No." Nothing had any taste, hadn't in so long that he could barely remember what it was to enjoy a meal. He certainly wasn't going to enjoy this one. "The stew will be fine." He stood in the center of the room, carefully not looking at Orac, which was blinking and chuckling to itself on a side table. 

"Sit," Blake directed, pointing at a chair set before a larger table which was strewn with diagrams and plans.

Avon obeyed and waited for Blake's next move. Blake kept looking into Avon's eyes. The wounded martyr look could be disconcerting but Avon had found a place deep inside where nothing mattered. The only problem about living in that place was that it was so very difficult to climb out when he needed to. At the moment he ought to be responding to Blake, but he couldn't decide on the proper attitude he should display. Would remorse suit the occasion? Or anger? Should he be dignified in defeat, or vindictive? What would satisfy Blake and get him out of here in the shortest amount of time?

Blake wondered what was going on behind that blank facade. Avon's eyes were dead. There was a faint tic at the corner of his left eye, and his hands twitched slightly as they lay on the table, but Avon made no attempt to hide them, as if he was unaware of what his body was doing. Blake ordered three stews and appropriate accompaniments, then strode over to the table and began removing the scattered papers. "Orac has been very helpful." Blake stressed 'Orac', and gazed at Avon speculatively.

Anger, then. That was what Blake wanted. He probably thought it would 'clear the air'. Avon snapped, "I'm so glad. I'd hate to think you felt cheated."

"Oh, no, Avon," Blake said in that deep burr he affected when at his most threatening, "never that. Orac is worth much more to me than one ship."

_Or than I am_. "True. In fact, Orac is so valuable it's dangerous- to you." Avon showed his teeth. "Or are you certain all of your current 'followers' are as ascetic and selfless as yourself? I should hate to hear later, when I am safely across the galaxy, that you were betrayed for gain. It would be such a sordid end to your shining career."

Blake's mouth tightened, and he stood up, distancing himself from Avon. "Yes, it would. Almost as sordid as being gut-shot by an old friend."

"But, Blake," Avon purred, "that never could happen. You haven't any 'old friends'. You killed them all."

Stung by the element of truth and frustrated by the sarcasm that Avon used to shield all honest emotion, Blake struck Avon across the mouth. Avon fell out of the chair, hit the floor hard, and immediately scooted backwards on hands and knees into a corner.

"Blake!" Dayna shouted. 

Blake glanced at her. "Do you deny that he deserved that? He deserves much more." He was angry, angry at himself for losing his temper and angry at Avon for goading him to it. He'd never hit Avon, never even dreamed he would, and was disgusted at himself for failing the test of self-control.

Dayna lowered her eyes, admitting that Blake was right. But she was surprised that Avon hadn't responded, hadn't tried to fight back or even to say anything. He was still in the corner, curled up tight. It had been more a back-handed slap than a punch, it shouldn't have kept Avon down.

"Get up," Blake shouted, standing over Avon. "I want this set this settled!"

Avon merely clenched his arms tighter over his head.

Blake reached down, intending to yank Avon to his feet, but his foot skidded on some of the papers knocked off of the table, and he landed on top of Avon instead, one hand on Avon's stomach, the other gripping one of Avon's thighs.

Avon arched underneath Blake and screamed. "No!" Avon shouted. " Not again!" 

"Avon?" Blake touched Avon's shoulder, feeling a massive shudder running through the other man's body. "I never hit you before. Not that you didn't ask for it."

Avon shook his head. "No...Please..."

Blake looked at Dayna again, a horrified suspicion growing in his mind. "Call Doctor Bellamy," he told Dayna.

"NO!" Avon shouted.

"Who, Avon? Tell me who did this to you."

"Nothing happened to me! Nothing," Avon said, in a more controlled tone of voice. He looked up from his arms. His eyes were huge and black in his starkly pale face."I was just... startled." 

"Not one of your better lies," Blake commented.

Dayna came and crouched down beside him. She reached out slowly to touch Avon's arm. "Avon?"

Avon shut his eyes and turned his head aside from both of them. "Just... just leave me alone."

Abruptly, Blake got up, too angry to sit still. "Stay with him," he told Dayna. "I'm going to get some answers."

"No!" Avon scrambled to his feet, shaking off Dayna's hand. "What good would it do you to know?"

"I won't have people like that in my organization." 

"You will always have people like that in your organization, Blake!" Avon shouted. "And they will always be the ones you can least afford to lose. They are the wolves, Blake, the ones who enjoy the battle, the ones who lap up the blood and batten on the fear. They are too useful to waste."

"I wasn't intending to have them summarily shot, just disciplined."

Avon shook his head. "If you muzzle a wolf, you turn him vicious. Let it be, Blake. After all, they are obviously loyal to you. It was for your sake..."

"Never say that, Avon. Not for me."

Avon looked into Blake's eyes and admitted, "No, but they thought so. You are important to them, and they were frightened at the prospect of losing you."

"Are you justifying their actions?" Blake asked.

"No. No, just... understanding..." Avon's voice trailed off as he looked into Blake's face, his eyes searching. "You were... you are..." and the door announcer buzzed, interrupting him. Whatever he was about to say about Blake would now be carefully locked away, which was a shame because he had a feeling he would have liked whatever it was. He went to the door and accepted the heavy tray from the man who waited there. The man smiled at Blake, but when his eyes went past, they became cold. Blake thanked him curtly and turned back to Dayna and Avon. "Was he one of them?" he asked Avon.

Avon's eyes were bleak. "One of them, all of them, none of them. It doesn't matter. Let it go, Blake. Let me go. If you'll excuse me, I seem to have lost my appetite." He put his head down and headed for the door, only to run into Blake's arms, amid a clatter of fallen dishes.

"Avon," Blake whispered, feeling suddenly protective and oddly tender of this man who had so very nearly killed him. "Don't go."

Avon tilted his head back to meet Blake's eyes. "What is this, therapy?"

"No, I don't think so." Blake's hands smoothed over Avon's tense shoulders. "Do you remember when you used to hold me?"

"You have a vivid imagination." But Avon made no move to escape, and the tenseness was leaving the muscles. Dayna had watched and not known what to do, but now she knew. She came up behind Avon.

"Avon?" she whispered, tentatively stroking her hands beside Blake's. 

"Don't," Avon muttered, but he wasn't fighting her. 

"Please, Avon."

"You can't. You shouldn't," he said softly. He forced a short laugh. "I'm no longer 'beautiful'."

Blake brought his hands to Avon's face, and lifted it. "You always were a poor judge of human nature." He kissed Avon's eyes shut. 

"Does Dayna call you beautiful?" Avon mumbled into Blake's throat.

Blake laughed, the rumble of his chest vibrating through Avon. "No. She calls me marvelous."

"Ah." Avon rested against Blake, for once not thinking, not planning or scheming. He didn't dare. He was afraid if he did anything it would spoil the moment. Blake gathered him in close, and Dayna pressed against him, creating a living barrier against the outside universe. He was enjoying it until Blake's cock moved against his thigh. He held himself in place, fighting his reaction. It was irrational. The situation wasn't the same. He had a choice. He wanted this. He wanted... but he couldn't convince his body, and his stomach heaved. No, he wouldn't let it. He forced his arms up and around Blake's waist. 

Blake and Dayna felt the trembling. "It's all right, Avon," Blake murmured, while Dayna pressed kisses to the back of his neck. Blake tried to see Avon's face, but the other man was too close. He ran a hand down Avon's flank, trying to reassure, but the shaking became more violent, and then Avon stiffened in his grasp and began pushing frantically at him.

"Let me go," Avon muttered, ashamed. "I'm going to be ill."

Blake released Avon, who turned, took two steps and fell to his knees, overtaken by nausea. 

Dayna snatched up the fallen supper tray and put it before Avon. He was sick for a long time, long after his stomach had emptied. Whenever Blake or Dayna tried to touch him, he was sick again. Finally he sensed them move off and dimly heard them talking. Past the noises he was making he couldn't tell what they were saying. He was humiliated and wished they would go away. His throat was raw, his head throbbed, his knees hurt from the hard floor, his lower back burned, and his belly felt as if the muscles were tearing with each convulsion. He wanted it over, but he couldn't make it stop. There was a swirl of cooler air which roused his attention enough for him to look up. Through watering eyes he saw two men coming at him. He struggled, panicked, but they held him down. His pants leg tore with a loud 'rip' and there was a sharp pain in his leg, and then everything went into slow-motion. He couldn't fight anymore. He lay limp on the dirty floor, feeling his racing heart slow.

"Avon?"

Blake's voice. Avon opened his eyes. Blake was looking concerned. One of his finer skills, Avon thought. But who was he concerned about? Dayna was beside Blake, and she looked well, although she seemed unhappy, too. 

"Bellamy's given you something to help you calm down. Do you understand me?"

Avon closed his eyes. Blake was still talking, a warm, golden burr that wrapped Avon like a soothing blanket. Hands touched him and he was lifted. He was still vaguely aware of what was happening, but nothing mattered. It was all warm and soft and peaceful. 

"Bellamy, you should have told me," Blake said.

"I'm not a psych-tech. I thought he could handle it," Bellamy said defensively, while hooking up a portable scanner to Avon, who was semi-conscious on Blake's bed. "I try to leave my patients what dignity I can." 

"I'm the leader of this base. Didn't you think I had a right to know what my people had done?"

"You were also my patient at the time, which gave me the authority to do as I saw best for your recovery." Bellamy read the scanner, gave Avon another injection and then began packing up his instruments. "I can't find anything physically wrong with him. If you can get him to talk to you, maybe he can help himself."

"That's it?" Dayna demanded. "Do something!"

"I don't know how to help him, beyond giving him a few hours rest. I'm sorry, but that's the truth."

"All right." Blake shook his head. "We'll see how he is in the morning."

Dayna went to Blake after Bellamy left, and put her arms around him. "He'll be all right, Roj." She hugged Blake briefly, and said, "come on, let's clean up this mess and then we can go to bed."

"Where?" Blake asked, humor rising to the surface. "Avon's got my bed."

"You're a famous rebel leader, aren't you? Organize something."

***

In the middle of the night Dayna woke, hunter's instincts's instincts rousing her. She carefully pulled herself out of Blake's grasp and found the knife she'd hidden under the pillow. She slipped out from between the sheets. The room wasn't entirely dark and she saw a shadow near Avon's bed. She crouched, knife at the ready.

The shadow spoke, softly, "It's me, Avon." 

Dayna turned the lights up. When they'd put Avon to bed, they'd only removed his belt and shoes. Apparently while looking for the shoes he had knocked over a small table which was what had awakened her."Where are you going?"

"Back to my quarters."

"Without saying a word!"

"I'd already made enough of a scene, earlier. I didn't want to wake you and Blake."

"Too late," Blake rumbled. He sat up in bed and yawned. "You're feeling better, I take it?"

Avon's mouth tightened, then relaxed. "Yes. Except..."

"What?" Blake asked.

Avon gave Blake a rueful glance. "Except that now I really am hungry. Perhaps I ought..." He made an abortive movement to the door.

Dayna got there before him, a stubborn set to her jaw. "Not alone."

"I can take care of myself," Avon snapped.

"Against how many? And without a weapon? I wouldn't let Blake out alone under those conditions, and he's a lot bigger than you."

"Dayna..." Avon started, his voice strained, but Blake interrupted.

"The refectory is closed, so there's no point going anywhere. I have some emergency rations." Blake rummaged around, coming back with a half bottle of wine, a sealed package of crackers spread with meat paste, and one of the tough-skinned native fruits. "Sit."

Avon looked from Dayna's determined face to Blake's blandly placid look. He sat and ate. It wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. 

Once Blake asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Avon said, "No," and Blake nodded.

Dayna peeled the bumpy orange-red fruit and neatly sectioned it while Blake poured them each a glass of wine. It was as native as the fruit, and Avon suspected it wasn't a particularly good year, but he drank his portion without comment. At least it got rid of that lingering foul taste in his mouth.

"Avon. About before..." Blake paused.

Avon shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that, either." He put down the remnant of his slice of fruit and stared at the table. 

"Well, we have to talk about something!" Dayna burst in.

Blake smiled. One of the things he found most endearing, and most irritating, about Dayna was her impetuosity. "Just tell us this much, Avon," Blake said, "Would you like to try again?" He reached a hand across the table to take Dayna's hand, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin. Avon's eyes followed. 

"Not right after I've eaten."

"That won't happen again," Blake assured him. 

"How do you know?" 

"Because now we know what to avoid." 

Avon shook his head. "No. We were all behaving irrationally. I do not need 'therapy' or 'stress relief' or any of the other charming euphemisms for sexual relations." Avon got to his feet. "I will not demean myself with explanation of my feelings, or lack of same. Good night." He nodded politely to both of them and left.

Blake held Dayna back when she would have followed. "You can't protect him. Not from himself."

"Yes, but!" Dayna squirmed around until she was facing Blake. "Damn! We were that close!" She punched Blake's shoulder and he jumped.

"Don't take it out on me! At least, not like that." He hugged her. 

Dayna frowned. "Therapy? Stress relief?"

"Actually," Blake said, while kissing her throat. "I was considering something more along the lines of 'making love'."

"Oh." Dayna arched her head back and leaned against the strong hand in the small of her back, trusting her balance to Blake. "Isn't that another euphemism?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because I'm in the mood for sex."

"Hmm. I think I can oblige you." Blake picked her up and carried her to the bed where Avon had slept, covers still mussed, and a lingering Avon-scent in the sheets. He dropped her to the bed, and lifted the hem of her nightgown a as her slender fingers undid the draw-string on his pajama bottoms.

"Well!" She said, pleased at what she found in her exploration. "I think the evening won't be a total loss."

"You are a wanton woman," Blake growled, kneeling above her as she slipped his pajamas down. 

"Oh, absolutely," she agreed, lifting her knees and spreading her legs wide.

Blake spread one hand over her belly, stroking and gently kneading the firm muscles. Lower his hand moved, encountering slippery wetness. "Ready?" He was large, and normally held off for a fair amount of foreplay out of consideration for his partner, but it seemed that she had a head start.

"Yes. Now." Dayna pulled him down for a deep, hot kiss. "I want you, Roj," she said as their lips parted. "I need you."

"Yes," he agreed, pushing himself inside her, while watching her face. He loved to see her expression soften, as the huntress gave way to the woman. Briefly, he felt a twinge of regret that he hadn't been able to observe Avon in transition. He would like to see Avon lose himself in pleasure. But he was with Dayna now, and he should be tending her pleasure, as the fist thumping against his side reminded him. "Patience, girl," he said.

Dayna opened her eyes and attempted a glare. "I told you... don't... call me that!" She dug her nails into his backside, and Blake yelped and thrust hard in response.  
"Oh. Yes. Yes," Dayna moaned beneath him, working herself on him, using the strength of her long leg muscles to pull him fully inside. 

Blake pumped heavily into her, and she writhed beneath him, as frantic to seek release as he was. It was good, but it was over far too soon. Blake collapsed on top of her until he caught his breath, then rolled to one side, kicking off his pajama bottoms as he did. She reached out for him and he moved into her arms, tugging her tangled nightgown off and pulling the covers around them, settling comfortably into their usual sleeping arrangement.

She pressed close to his shoulder and began weeping. "Oh, Roj," she cried. "I love you, but... it's so hard. Must I give up everyone else?"

Blake had no words of comfort. Instead he held her close until they both fell asleep.

***

Blake awoke with a plan clearly in mind. It would make Avon see reason, please Dayna, and in general solve all their personal problems while at the same time overturning the Federation and iinstituting a new universal order of justice, freedom and prosperity for all.

Unfortunately, Dayna interrupted him and by the time he'd finished reassuring her that she was still a desirable woman he'd forgotten what the plan was. Oh, well, he thought as he was getting dressed, he'd just have to slog along. A good first step would be getting Avon off the base for a while. Avon could go along with him and Dayna to the ship. It was under constant guard of course, but the guards stayed outside. It was the closest thing to privacy that he had to offer.

He would like to see how Avon interacted with his crew. Sometimes Blake thought wistfully of the _Liberator_ days. They'd occasionally had moments of camaraderie to lessen the tension. He hadn't any 'comrades' since Jenna's death. It would never occur to Deva, for instance, to tell Blake a joke or go toe-to-toe with him when he disagreed. Blake hadn't wanted to allow that closeness after the pain of separating from the _Liberator_. It had torn his heart to leave, but it had seemed necessary at the time. Even if he hadn't promised the ship to Avon he thought he needed to try a different approach.

He sighed. That different approach had nearly got him killed on more worlds than he cared to recall. Still, things were progressing. Once Gauda Prime achieved normal status... well, that would start the ball rolling. He stomped into his boots and left his room.

He'd already sent Dayna to Avon. He thought it would be better if she tried to cajole Avon into going to the ship rather than have him suggest it. Avon seldom looked favorably on any of Blake's ideas and it wouldn't do much good forcing him to work on the ship. 

"Blake!"

"Yes, Deva?" Blake turned back to face his second in command. Deva was looking a bit worn, Blake noticed. He'd had a lot of extra work and responsibility thrown on him lately.

"The Federation observers will be here soon," Deva said. He brushed his hair back from his forehead nervously. "It's about time you did something with Avon's lot, isn't it?"

"They can't go without a ship," Blake said patiently. "It isn't ready yet."

"You aren't in any hurry to have them leave, are you?" Deva accused. "Dayna..." he stopped when Blake looked up.

"Dayna is not your concern and neither are the others. If the observers arrive before they leave, we'll simply keep them under cover." Blake continued on his way, his good mood evaporated. He didn't like to think about the possibility, that Dayna would choose to go with Avon's crew.

***

"Avon." Now that two of the people she cared about were at last on theirr way to reconcilation, Dayna intended to keep the momentum going. His door was locked. She tapped on the com. set beside the door. "Come and have breakfast with us."

"I'm busy," Avon replied, indistinctly through the speaker. "And I'm not hungry."

"Avon, come on. Even you need to eat."

"Later. I can't leave this."

Dayna turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. It was Leland with a cloth-covered tray. "He doesn't want to come out to breakfast," she explained, pouting a bit. She hated disappointing Blake and didn't think it was good for Avon to sulk in his room all the time.

"Avon!" Leland ignored the announcer and rapped at the door with his large knuckles. "Are you ill? Shall I get the doctor?"

"No! Just... go away."

"I've brought your breakfast."

"Fine. Leave it in the corridor."

"It will get cold."

"Good. I like it that way."

"You don't even know what it is."

"And I don't care!" 

"That does it. I'm getting Vila," Dayna decided.

"No." Now Avon sounded resigned. "Wait a moment." 

It was more than a moment, but the door opened and Avon was on the other side, reaching out for the tray. He didn't meet Leeland's gaze, or Dayna's, keeping his head well down. "I really am busy," he said, taking the tray. "Thank you. I will eat it later." He retreated and almost had his hand on the door control when Dayna looked down at the tray he held and saw something red drip onto the white napkin that covered the food.

"Oh, no, Avon, not again!" Dayna said.

He would have shut the door on her, but Leland's foot was in the entrance, followed by the bulk of his body. There was a moment of silence and then Avon tilted his head. He had a black eye and a split lip and absolutely no expression on his face.

Dayna asked "Who was it?" she asked, suddenly furious. 

Avon shrugged. "We were never formally introduced." He put the tray down on his desk, using the movement to disquise a sideways glance flicked at Leland, warning him to silence. 

"You could describe them to Blake," Leland said. "You should. Everyone was ordered to leave you alone. It would be a matter of base discipline to report them."

Avon said, harshly, "What it would be is suicide. Leave it be, both of you. It really isn't important."

Dayna said, "At least come to the medical unit. You look terrible."

Avon grinned with the left side of his mouth, the right too swollen to move properly. "The worse I look, the better. It appeases them to see their mem to see their mark on me."

"It won't appease Blake," Dayna said, as Leland looked from one to the other, as if judging how well her argument was proceeding.

Avon shrugged. "Then I suggest you keep him away from me." There was a pause. "That might be as well, in any event.

"Are you embarrassed about last night?" Dayna was too upset to be properly cautious in front of Leland, but Leland... well, since he had brought Avon to the medical unit he must have at least guessed what had been done to Avon. She was angry at all of them for keeping it a secret, even angry at Avon for his stiff-necked pride that wouldn't allow him to admit any weakness.

"Well, now it was hardly a shining moment, was it? But no, I'm not avoiding Blake out of embarrassment."

"Then why? Explain it to me." She tried not to shout, tried to be calm and dispassionate.

Avon turned aside from them and drummed his fingers idly on his desk, eyes distant, then said, "Because I will either be his death, or he will be mine."

"You wouldn't shoot him again," Dayna said, positively.

"No, I doubt it would be as direct as that. I have never been able to apply reason where Blake is concerned. We distract each other and in Blake's line, that will eventually be fatal."

"What if Blake was to leave the rebellion?" Dayna had been toying with the idea for a few days, but she hadn't quite got up enough nerve to mention it to Blake. Oh, she still wanted to kill Servalan,but that was personal.

Leland jerked in surprise at her suggestion. "No," he breathed. "We need him."

Avon looked at Leland, then back and Dayna and shook his head. "If I couldn't leave it, how could he? Blake is the rebellion. He will die fighting it.The only alternative is to surrender."

"No. The only alternative is to win," Dayna said firmly.

"We are stronger than we look," Leland added. "More determined, more dedicated. Dayna is right. We will win."

Avon smiled thinly. "Even before I had Orac to fill in the details, I'd seen too much of the Federation's power to believe that was possible. We aren't talking about one planet, or a consortium of planets. This is a megalithic monster, grown so huge that it takes years for it to even notice an injury done to one of its outlying tentacles."

"Then why were they so frightened of Blake, if one man couldn't hurt them?" Leland said. "They don't post a multi-billion credit bounty on harmless people."

"At the highest level a government is made up of individuals and individual human beings have a tendency to let their emotions override their reason. The president and the High Council don't enjoy having their rule disputed. They were annoyed when Blake's protests interfered with productivity; they were inconvenienced when Blake's bombs destroyed their communications facilities; they were insulted when Blake's ship destroyed their much-vaunted military vessels. Blake was an affront to the powers-that-be, a bad example to the worker hive, but an actual threat?" Avon shook his head. "Nothing Blake ever did was half as drastic as Travis's betrayal. Even then, with the centralized computer control destroyed and the majority of the Federation military presence wiped out, the Federation didn't fall. At best, it wobbled. No, Blake's campaign was always a endless race on a treadmill, and I do not have the stamina to endure it any longer."

"You don't have to join Blake's rebellion to have breakfast with us," Dayna said, sidestepping the complicated issues and getting back to something simple and direct.

"Perhaps later."

Dayna said, "You need a good meal before you go out to the ship."

"Ah. There it is. I knew there was something more than a social occasion in the offing."

"You did promise Tarrant you'd go."

"So I did. Very well." Avon brushed past the two of them, out into the corridor and started off at a brisk pace.

Leland exchanged a glance with Dayna, both of them puzzled over the swiftness of Avon's change of mind. "Wait," Dayna called, "the medical unit is the other way."

"I know," Avon said without pausing.

Leland followed Avon and quickly caught up, shoulders not quite touching as he walked at the smaller man's left-hand side.

Avon didn't even look at him. They walked like men looking for trouble.

"Oh," Dayna said and quickly fell into step on Avon's other side. _This might be fun._

Blake had been waiting quite a few minutes and was beginning to be annoyed. He was casually talking to the rebels at his table, avoiding glancing up at the entrance whenever someone entered. He heard several people coming in and poised himself once more to respond on a light level if it was Dayna and Avon.

"Blake."

Leland's voice and it sounded like trouble.

Blake looked up, and saw Avon in all his bruised and battered glory. "Dammit, Avon," he growled. The injuries were quite a few hours old, to have reached their current stage of discoloration. Behind Avon, Dayna and Leland stood in flanking, defensive positions. He reined in his irritation with Avon's pride and reached out but Avon shifted his head just enough to avoid the touch. Blake let his hand drop to his side. "You won't let anyone help you, will you? Who was it, this tiime?"

Avon inclined his head. "I wouldn't have you waste your time with riff-raff. After all, they were only trying," he said, touching his discolored eye gingerly, "to make us a matching set."

"They may have succeeded." Blake said, "Come here," holding out his hand in invitation. Avon would not accept pity, but perhaps he remembered the friendship they once had, always unacknowledged, but very real.

Avon canted his head to one side, considering, then let out a sigh and took Blake's hand. He held it a moment, then stepped forward until they were almost touching. 

Blake held his breath, seeing Avon tremble before him, face gone pale. Avon was going to try... no, not in front of all Blake's people, he wasn't. Yes, he was. Avon put his other hand up to the back of Blake's head, and pulled down.

"This is extremely stupid of me. I shall probably regret it almost immediately," Avon whispered, then lifted his head to kiss Blake.

Blake responded, carefully, respecting the courage Avon was displaying. His arms went around Avon, reflexively, and he felt a shudder pass along the man's frame.

"Stop," Avon said, but the tone wasn't panicky.

Blake pulled back far enough to look into Avon's face, which was rueful, rather than frightened. "I said I should regret it almost immediately. My lip is sore," Avon complained.

Blake laughed. "Then let's find Doctor Bellamy. I want you in top shape."

"Is that an invitation?" Avon asked, leaning suggeestively toward Blake.

"I'd engrave it in gold, but Vila would only steal it." Blake clapped his hand on Avon's shoulder, and Avon not only allowed it, he covered Blake's hand with his own for a moment before they turned as one and left the refectory full of mind-boggled rebels.

Dayna grinned and followed the two men out of the room. 

Leland hesitated, then remained behind, standing in the doorway, arms crossed and feet set well apart. He said, "I wouldn't have believed it, but there are cowards on this base." He pointed his thumb at his own broad chest and smiled. "Next time, try me."

"What's the matter, jealous because you didn't get a turn?" Came a hoarse voice from the crowd near the kitchen.

Leland's face went white, then red as he scanned the crowd, but could not determine who had spoken. "You're only brave in the dark, in the crowd against one man. That isn't what our rebellion is about, and if any of you can't see that, then you are all cowards, too." Then he turned and strode from the room.

 

Once Blake, Dayna and Avon were down the corridor and temporarily alone, Blake said, "I don't believe for one moment that you were suddenly overcome by my charms. What was all that about?"

"It seemed a good idea at the time," Avon replied. "I am getting rather tired of being batted around. It's hard on the wardrobe, for one thing."

"It isn't all that easy on the spectators, either," Dayna said as she walked beside Blake, scanning for hostiles. If Blake's people would act like Sarran savages, she would be more than happy to treat them that way- of course, Blake probably wouldn't approve of them being too damaged.

Blake nodded, then told Avon, "I see. It was all a calculated plan." His eyes crinkled in sudden amusement. "If they think you are my lover, they won't harass you?" He put out an arm, which Avon neatly side-stepped without appearing to have noticed.

"Something like that." Avon added coolly, "The facade ought to last long enough. Tarrant says the ship is nearly ready."  
"Not quite," Dayna said.

Blake felt cold inside at the thought of how little time was left to sort things out. He still didn't know if Dayna would stay with him; he wasn't even sure whether he should want her to stay. The plan might be more dangerous than he thought, and she was sure to demand a part in it once it was set in motion."Yes. There are some problems with the computer. Your 'Slave' doesn't appear willing to communicate with the ship. Vila says it's mourning _Scorpio._ "

"Yes, well, Vila would say that. I'm sure the compatibility problem can be easily overcome."

"I wish ours could," Blake saidid, honestly.

Avon had gone ahead of Blake and Dayna. He turned back with a look that Blake classified as regretful. "Wishes are irrational and frequently anti-survival. Above all, Blake, I am a survivor."

"And closeness to me is anti-survival?"

"People who get close to either of us get burned, Blake. The two of us together- well, the universe might not withstand the inferno."

"On the other hand, it just might warm things up."

"It might. But I play the percentages." Avon halted at the cross-corridor leading to the medical unit. "I am quite capable of visiting the doctor on my own."

"Like you were capable of getting back to your room on your own, last night?" Dayna said.

Blake agreed with her. "It will take time for news of your little performance to spread. And we never did get any breakfast."

Avon was silent for a long moment, then he shrugged. "Very well. I can't say I blame you for not trusting me out of your sight."

"That's not fair," Dayna said. "Roj hasn't ..."

 

Blake silenced her with a shake of his head. "I trust you, Avon. I trust you to be yourself."  
"You haven't changed as much as I'd thought, Blake."

Dayna wanted to know, "Is that a compliment, Roj?"

 

Bellamy was disgruntled, but efficient. "Is there anything else?" he asked after using the regenerator on Avon's facial inuries.

"No. It was late and they were fatigued," Avon said blandly. "They only spared me a few moments of their time." He slid off the examination table. "Breakfast?" he reminded Blake. "Now that I can chew, the prospect is not entirely unappealing."

***

The refectory fell silent when Avon entered walking casually at Blake's side, but it was a different silence from the previous hostility. They were confused, possibly even a little frightened. Avon gazed at the gathered rebels coolly, barely pausing as he noted the presence of several of his tormentors. Even that slight hesitation was enough for Blake, who draped an arm protectively, possessively, over Avon's shoulder.

"I'd like to have you for breakfast," Blake leaned close to Avon to whisper once they collected their plates and sat at the suddenly, miraculously, empty table that appeared when Dayna tested the sharpness of her meat-knife against her thumb. It was the way she sucked at the thin line of blood and smiled that did it, Blake assumed.

"Oh?" Avon replied, shifting his body weight against Blake. "In a public place?"

"I'm not shy," Blake said, his eyes holding a dare.

"Well, now, a statement such as that requires proof." Avon glanced at Dayna, who was sitting at his left side. "You will bear witness that I was provoked?"

"That depends," she said, slightly worried by the odd light in his eyes."What exactly do you have in mind?"

"I'm ambidextrous," Avon said, shifting his fork to his left hand. His right hand slipped beneath the table and found Blake's thigh.

Blake coughed.

Dayna grinned. "Sausage?" she asked brightly, offering her plate to Avon.

"No, thank you," Avon replied. "I already have all I can handle." His shoulder moved subtly, and Blake sat up straight, staring across the room.

Dayna looked at Avon's plate- eggs, toast and citrus fruit slices. "Hmm. I think your sausage looks better than mine." She shifted her fork to her left hand, and wriggled the fingers of her right, limbering them. 

"On second thought," Avon said, bringing his right hand up and transferring his fork back to it, "vegetarianism is probably healthier." He showed his teeth and bit into a fruit slice.

"Oh, I don't know," Blake said in his richest, most seductive voice- albeit too low for anyone other than Avon or Dayna to hear- , "meat is very- filling, very- satisfying." He pressed his thigh against Avon's at the same time Dayna squeezed against Avon on the other side. "Would you pass the salt?" Blake asked Dayna politely, giving her an excuse to lean across Avon, rubbing firmly against his chest.

"Saltpeter would be seem to be more to the point," Avon muttered.  
Blake judged the game had gone far enough and changed the subject. "True. We should keep our minds on more important things. Deva tells me the Federation observers will arrive shortly." He waited for Avon's response.

Avon swallowed a piece of toast and asked, "How shortly?"

"We don't know, exactly."

"Didn't you ask Orac?" There was only a slight emphasis on 'Orac'.

"Of course, but it was less than forthcoming."

"Perhaps you've forgotten how to handle it," Avon said in a noncommittal tone.

"Perhaps you'd like to have a chat with him."

Avon shrugged. "As you like. I suppose I should instruct it to obey its new owner." Ice had crept back into his tone and he sat stiffly. He laid his fork down and said, "Now seems as good a time as any," while rising to his feet, pushing his half-eaten meal aside.

Blake got up, too. He was almost tempted to give the contrary computer back to Avon. After all, they were so much alike, they belonged together. Unfortunately, he couldn't afford to lose any advantage. Not now. Things were coming to a head soon. He felt like a man running in front of an avalanche, knowing forces beyond his control were about to overtake him, trying desperately to keep his footing. Dayna came up beside him, silent and supportive. He appreciated it more than he thought wise. Not that he agreed with Avon that emotion was weakness, but it was selfish to pursue his own happiness when so many lives depended on him. Still, he was only human and allowed himself to drape an arm companionably about her waist as they followed Avon out of the refectory.

 

"Orac," Avon said, silkily, once the three of them were back in Blake's quarters."Blake has some questions for you. I expect you to cooperate fully."

"Very well."

Blake shook his head. He'd shouted and ordered to no avail-'All circuits are engaged'. Orac must have become very good at reading threat in Avon's voice- or maybe Avon had reprogrammed it to only obey him? No, that couldn't be, or Avon would have used that as a bargaining chip. More likely, the computer had just picked up some of Avon's bloody-mindedness to add to its own native insolence. "Orac, Federation troops have been here for weeks, preparing the security for the visit of the official Federation observers who are to announce Gauda Prime's return to normal status. What I need to know is- when are the observers due?"

"That would be security coded information."

"Which is why I am asking you to obtain it."

The computer seemed to sigh. "Very well, I will endeavor to obtain the information. Is there anything else you require?"

Blake rubbed his chin. "Yes. Get me the names of the observers, and any information you can gather on them- biographical, psychological, anything which might be useful."

"In what sense, useful?"

Blake leaned forward, splaying his hands to either side of the computer. "I'm looking for weakness, vulnerability, openness to..."

"He means blackmail, Orac. Don't you, Blake?" Avon said.

Blake straightened to face Avon. "We need to know the enemy."

Avon's lip curled, then his face went blank again. "Just do as Blake says, Orac." He reached out and took Orac's key out of its slot. He stared at the small piece of plastic in his hand for an instant, then clicked it down clicked it down on the table in front of Blake. "Sorry. Force of habit." He put his hands behind his back, and turned for the door. "We had better be on our way to Tarrant's ship."

"Not just Tarrant's ship," Dayna said. She came close to Avon, reaching out but he shifted away from her.

"Well, it's certainly not mine," Avon replied. He looked at Blake. "Shall we go?"

***

Dayna looked at Avon, who was staring blindly out the flyer window at the passing foliage, then up front to the back of Blake's head. She wouldn't say she'd been worried that Avon would attack them, but she found herself sliding into the back seat with him instead of sharing the front with Roj as she usually did. Avon spared her one cold glance, then proceeded to pretend he was the only person on the flyer. Blake was silent in the front, and after a few abortive attempts at conversation, she gave it up as a bad job, and just sat there counting the minutes until they reached the ship. It was an uncomfortable half hour for all concerned.

Blake landed the flier roughly. Dayna got out slowly after Avon, rubbing at her neck. "Next time, I think I'll come with Tarrant," she remarked.

Blake was already out and he looked at her, then shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I did let him get to me," he admitted, turning to watch Avon approach the space ship. Blake waved at the rebel guards, and they stood aside, letting Avon enter. "I shouldn't. He always accused me of manipulation, but he's very good at it, too, even though all he wants to do is make everyone else miserable.

Well," Dayna said brightly, taking Blake's arm as they went toward the ship together, "why don't we spoil his fun and _not_ be miserable?"

Blake laughed. "Why not?" 

 

Blake and Dayna entered the ship, laughing, arm in arm. Avon heard them, and didn't acknowledge it, but it annoyed him that they could so easily push grim reality aside. Was a snatched moment of happiness worth exposing yourself to danger? They seemed to think so, but he did not. If Blake hadn't been so foolish as to let his emotions rule, he wouldn't have come at Avon unarmed in that damned tracking gallery. Then he could have shot Avon and that would have been an end. No doubt Blake would have agonized over it, winning the sympathy of Avon's own crew- not that Avon wanted to claim them. It would be nice, however, if there were someone he could rely on, someone... no, he wasn't going to get into that again. Trust anyone? Sharpen the knife and present his back again? No, that wasn't going to happen. He would help repair this ship and he would be on it when it left, regardless of however many of his erstwhile comrades chose to stay with Blake. Then he was finally going to ground in one of the 'bolt-holes' that Orac had found for him over the years. With any sort of luck, he should be able to amass wealth enough quickly enough to pay for all the accouterments of a new, totally non-political, identity. That was all he needed- money, and the security that went with it. If, after that, he decided he needed companionship, he would bloody well _rent_ it.

"Avon!" Vila popped up, seemingly out of the ducting, a grin appearing, then vanishing immediately he saw Avon's expression. "Oh. Come to help?"

"I've come to ensure this ship doesn't fall to ensure this ship doesn't fall apart around me when we leave this planet. The computer?"

"This way." Vila led Avon to the flight deck. "Er," he said as Avon began stripping down Slave's outer casing, "don't you want to know what the problem is?"

"The problem is that the entire job has been botched," Avon said, savagely ripping out the auto-feed sensor link to the navi-computer, which Vila had spent two agonizing hours over. Vila made a protesting noise and Avon paused to say, "Would you rather depend on your computer skills, or mine?"

"Er." Vila wasn't too sure of Avon's skills or sanity, at the moment.

"Good, we're agreed. Now, get out of my light." 

"Leave it, Vila," Blake advised. "We'll leave the genius to himself. That is what you want, isn't Avon?"

Avon looked up at Blake, briefly. "How uncharacteristically astute of you, Blake."

Blake, Dayna, and Vila left the flight deck. It was quiet, except for the sounds of machinery. Avon could hear himself breathing. For the first time since he'd shot Blake, he actually believed he was alone. At Blake's base, the man's presence overlaid everything, like the lingering scent of smoke after a fire. This ship hadn't been Blake's, not really. It had belonged to Jenna, Tarrant said.

Avon and Jenna had respected each other, having the instinctive recognition of one predator for another of its kind. They both had the same desires, although Jenna pretended to disdain wealth, and he pretended to disdain... well, it wasn't important now. The main thing was, he could relax here. He could think, and he could work. It had been too long since he'd been able to lose himself in work.

***

Blake looked up from the none-too-appetizing meal the ship's synthesizer had created as Soolin entered. He'd asked her to go to the flight deck to check on Avon and see if he would join the others at their meal. It had been six hours since they arrived, and while everyone else had taken at least a few minutes break, Avon hadn't budged from within his protective moat of computer parts, snapping at everyone who tried to offer assistance.

"I think he's asleep," she said. She frowned. "On the floor, underneath the computer console."

"Maybe Slave sang him a lullaby," Dayna said. She was picking over her dinner reluctantly. "Pity. He's missing out on this gourmet cuisine."

"His back will give him hell," Vila commented, and grimaced. "That'll improve his mood no end."

Blake sighed and started to get up, but Dayna said, "You know he'll only get stubborn if you try to help him."

Tarrant pushed his plate back and got up. "I'll go, but frankly, I think he's right not to eat this."

"Will he listen to Tarrant?" Blake asked Dayna.

"Probably not at first, but Tarrant can be just as stubborn as Avon."

 

 

"Avon?" Tarrant nudged Avon's leg. No reaction. He got down on his knees and peered under the console. Avon was actually asleep. Tarrant wasn't sure he'd ever seen Avon asleep. Well, naturally asleep, Tarrant couldn't count the number of times he'd seen Avon drugged, or knocked unconscious, or electronically rendered comatose. But actually, really slumbering like a normal human being? Never. Not even that one time they'd ... well, 'relieved' each other came closest to a factual description of the event. "Avon?" he said again, softly, not wanting to startle a reaction. True, they were all unarmed, but Avon's right hand was holding a laser probe.

Avon's breathing quickened slightly and he shifted, turning on his side as if to face Tarrant. Avon's lips parted. His hair was tousled and he was slightly flushed, with a beading of sweat on his upper lip. Avon hadn't allowed a kiss during their encounter. Tarrant didn't actually think about it, but he found himself descending on Avon, holding down both wrists as he licked away the line of salty moisture. Avon's lips opened and he made a small, throaty sound, not quite a moan. Encouraged, Tarrant pressed his mouth to Avon's. The lips were soft under his, encouraging him. He allowed his tongue to reach inside. Avon accepted it, sucking on his tongue for a long moment before Tarrant felt Avon's body shift under him and common sense reasserted itself. He released Avon's wrists and pulled back in time to see the awakening. It surprised him by being gradual, body stretching languorously and smile lingering on the pressure-pinked lips. Avon's hand came up, followed Tarrant's arm to his face, then smoothed over his cheek to slip into his curls. "Blake?" Avon murmured.

Tarrant felt embarrassed and guilty, all at once. "No," he said quietly, "it's only me, Tarrant."

Avon lay still underneath Tarrant for a long moment, eyes wide and startled, then narrowing in decision. "No," he said finally. "It isn't only you." He reached up and grabbed Tarrant by the back of the neck.

Tarrant resisted. "No, Avon. I won't be a substitute for Blake. If you want him..."

Avon shook his head. "No. I don't want him. I... need him. But at the moment...I need you."

The need was obvious. Tarrant felt it pressing at him from inside the baggy folds of Avon's dull, shapeless jumpsuit. Funny, he'd never thought Avon was handsome, but at the moment the desperation in those dark brown eyes made him irresistible. He'd never heard Avon say he needed anyone. He let himself be pulled down for another kiss. "No," he said, twisting away.

"No?" Avon ran the back of his hand over the front of Tarrant's trousers.

"Not on the flight deck." Tarrant gritted his teeth. "And not if you are only doing this to hurt Blake."

Avon went white, and perfectly still. Then he resumed breathing. "No. I can't with Blake... I tried.."

"So what is this, then? A test run? A main flight?" Tarrant asked, insulted, then embarrassed as he realized what he'd said.

Avon grinned up at Tarrant. "You could call it that." He had grown to trust Tarrant. If he was ever to contemplate sex with a man again, he'd need a partner he could trust. He wanted to trust Blake, felt he should trust Blake, but what if he was wrong? Hell of a time to find it out underneath Blake's bulk, when the man was beyond stopping. If this tryst with Tarrant went sour, it wouldn't necessarily be the end. He could always try with Vila. The thought made him laugh out loud. "Yes, Tarrant, I am only using you. No, I do not harbor any sentimental attachments toward you."

"Ah. Well, that sounds honest, at least." Tarrant looked slightly disappointed, then brightened. "You only want me for my body?"

"Well, now." Avon considered. "Your mouth isn't half bad, either."

Tarrant said, "I'm flattered, but really Avon, I don't want to come between you and Blake."

Avon grinned. "I don't think Blake's bed is large enough."

Tarrant worked out the double entendre and blushed, but he persisted. "I'm no thief."

"Blake doesn't own me. Neither does he own you. Or does he?"

Tarrant sighed at the blatant provocation. "I told Blake I'd bring you back to eat with us," he said in a last-ditch attempt to preserve his honor.

"You convinced me to dine with you. In your quarters." Avon's voice was pure seduction and his hands were suddenly pulling Tarrant to him, roving and searching out weakness.

Tarrant surrendered. It was that, or Blake would find them _together_ on the flight deck.

 

"Blake?" Tarrant's voice came over the intercom. He sounded a bit odd. "Avon's going to eat with me in my quarters."

"He is?" 

"Yes. I'll pick something up from the synthesizer." There was muttering in the background and Blake heard Tarrant gasp, then whisper fiercely, 'stop it!'.

"All right," Blake said shortly and clicked off the intercom. He sat down and no one said anything. "Well, what's next on the repair list?" he asked Soolin, keeping his annoyance firmly in check. And Avon accused _him_ of manipulation.

***

"It's not much," Tarrant said, leading Avon into his quarters.

Avon looked around. Nothing was visible except four bare metal walls. "The minimalist approach, I see."

"It's typical for a freighter." Tarrant pointed out outlined rectangles on the wall panels. "Sink. Wardrobe. Storage. Table. Chair. And this is the bed," he indicated a six-inch wide rectangle that ran the length of one long wall. "It's rolled up inside the wall. When it's deployed it fills the room."

"Ah." Avon surveyed the situation.

"You release it from the doorway and climb in," Tarrant informed him. Avon just stood there, looking at him. Tarrant sighed and said, "Or not, if you've changed your mind."

Avon had actually, when faced with the reality of what looked like an increasingly sordid exercise in gymnastics, but he shook his head and began opening the zipper of his jumpsuit, while staring at the wall beside Tarrant. The zipper was halfway down his chest when Tarrant said, gently, "No. I don't know what you're thinking, but you don't really want to do this."

Avon laughed and shook his head again. "It's Vila, then," he muttered, and turned aside.

"Avon." Tarrant caught up with him, and threw caution to the winds by wrapping his arms around Avon from the back. "Stop it. Please. This isn't like you. Look, why don't I just set up the bed and let you sleep. By yourself. If you come to me tomorrow, I won't turn you down."

Avon was holding himself taut against any reaction. He had thought it would be all right, because he had been able to tease Blake in the refectory, and later he had been enjoying that dream-Blake. He wasn't afraid of Tarrant, had never been afraid of him, not even when they first met and Tarrant had been an armed Federation officer. But now, with those strong, young arms around him, it was all he could do to keep from screaming. "Let me go," he said softly, and some of the panic crept into his tone.

Tarrant released him immediately, half-turning him as he did, so they wound up facing each other bare inches apart. "What is it, Avon?" Tarrant whispered.

Avon hung his head for a moment, then lifted it to say venomously, "Ask Dayna and Blake." Then he turned again and left before Tarrant could stop him. He made it as far as the open hatch of the ship before reality struck in the form of a pair of rebels standing guard outside. They snapped their rifles to ready position with an eagerness that put them firmly in the anti-Avon camp. He was more than half-tempted to dare them to shoot. Only with his luck, he'd wind up back in Blake's infirmary with Bellamy clucking over him. This ship was his only escape. Once he got off this planet and away from Blake's rabble, he'd be all right. Well, as all right as anyone who had half the civilized worlds after his hide could be. Which meant - get back to work. 

Blake was on the flight deck when Avon entered. Avon paused, then continued on to pick up the tools he'd left by the console. He turned, thinking there must be some other part of the ship where he could be usefully employed. Some Blake-less part of the ship. He was almost off the deck when Blake spoke.

"Avon."

Avon stopped but he didn't turn back. "Yes."

"I thought you were with Tarrant." Blake said in a flat tone of voice, a bit too toneless to be simply stating a fact.

"I thought so, too," Avon confessed. "It was an error. One that will not be repeated." 

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" That made Avon turn. He stared at Blake in astonishment. "Why should you regret my mistakes?" _Because he nearly died of one,_ Avon's internal voice said before he could silence it.

"Because it isn't pleasant seeing someone tear themselves up," Blake replied.

"Ah. Then perhaps you ought not to watch me so closely. Now, if you'll excuse me." And Avon marched off the flight deck before Blake could drag more maudlin sentiment from him. _I'm running away from everyone today,_ he thought, _Why do I care what any of them think of me? Once this ship leaves, I'll find somewhere to start over without any of them. I'll choose when I go, and where. Orac could... if Blake would let me use it, and he probably would if I asked. Ask the man I shot for a favor? I think not. All right, no Orac, no help from anyone or anything. Fine. I have skills. I'll manage. Just let me get away from here._

***

It was Soolin who found Avon asleep this time. He was slumped on the table in the minuscule area they had designated the 'dining room' because it had a table and a heavy-duty food synthesizer. His arms were curled under his head just keeping his nose out of a half-eaten plate of food. She said, "Avon. Avon. Wake up."

Avon's breathing rate increased, he lifted his head and said, "What?"

"It's late. Blake and Dayna were going back to the base, but they couldn't find you."

"I'm staying," Avon said flatly. He sat up, winced and put a hand to the small of his back.

"Fine. I'll tell them. There's a cabin free. Tarrant already made up the bed for you. I think he was feeling guilty for waking you earlier," she said, with a slight smile.

"Let's not get into that." Avon said. He ran a hand over his face, sighed and stood, trying to remember what he'd been working on when he had decided to take a meal-break.

"Bed. This way."

"I'm coming." Avon was mildly amused by Soolin's impatience. Presumably she had orders to report back to Blake who had apparently taken Avon's point on being watched too closely. Everyone was being so careful not to offend him. That was annoying in itself, of course, but he could sleep here, surrounded by well-meaning fools. He couldn't remember when he'd last had anything approaching a full night's sleep. Or a meal that didn't stick in his throat. Or a conversation that wasn't dangerous.

The bed filled the room, as Tarrant had warned. Avon listened to Soolin's brief explanation of the lavatory facilities (down the corridor to the left), laundry facilities (automated chute, but not working) and comm. unit hook-up, which only sent to the flight deck at present and couldn't receive. 

"Does anything on this ship function correctly?" Avon asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed with his legs out in the corridor in order to remove his boots.

"Be grateful the lav. works," Soolin told him before she left.

Boots off and stowed under the bed, Avon considered making a trip down the corridor to the left, but it seemed too much bother. He managed to convince the door to slide shut and the room light to remain on long enough for him to remove his jumpsuit. He draped it over the lower part of the bed, then climbed between the chill sheets. He curled up on his side and eventually stopped shivering.

He slept quite well, all things considered -five hours straight- and actually woke with an appetite. As the others were still asleep he decided it would be a good time to work on the food synthesizer. Fifteen minute's investigation proved the fault to lie in the programming interface rather than the mechanical aspects. Five minutes after that he was enjoying a cup of Denevan coffee and a hot cinnamon bun. As he scanned the reinstated menu, he noticed several old friends. Jenna must have kept a copy of _Liberator's_ galley chip.He considered saving a chip copy for his own use later on another ship, but it would just encourage him to cling to old memories.

"Avon! Old pal, old buddy! Real coffee! You're a life-saver!" came a burble from the open door.

Vila was being a little too typically cheerful to be believable, but Avon let it pass without comment. Instead he stood and said, "If you're that grateful, you can do the washing up. The auto-cleansing unit is still uncooperative."

"And the laundry, and the ship-to-ship communications, and the drive, and the navi-comp- of course, I had that fixed..."

Avon was looking at Vila and when there was finally a lull he asked, "How long did Tarrant estimate it would take to complete repairs?"

"Maybe another ten days."

"Too long." Avon thought about it. Blake would be at him, trying to persuade him that everything would be wonderful once he surrendered. Given enough time Blake was quite capable of persuading him, not that black was white, but that there wasn't any difference between the two so he might as well call them whatever pleased Blake. "We could go faster if we used Orac," he said reluctantly.

"Not that much faster. A lot of its just re-wiring and reassembling things."

"And a lot of it is reprogramming corrupted databanks and flushed memory links." Everywhere Avon had been the day before, he'd encountered computer failures. When he fixed one problem, another was hiding beneath it and when he tracked that down, it revealed a previously unsuspected flaw in another system, and so on. It was tedious, finicky work that Orac could do on a electronic level in seconds. 

"I could ask Blake if he'd lend Orac to us," Vila finally volunteered.

Avon nodded sharply. "Do that." It wasn't quite the same as if he'd asked himself, but he wasn't happy about it. Still, he had to get away from Blake as quickly as possible.

***

Vila appeared later that day carrying Orac, and said, "Blake told me to tell you that you can keep him until tomorrow," as he deposited the computer on the console above Avon's head.

Avon made a non-committal grunt. Blake hadn't tried to talk to him again, which wasn't as much of a relief as it should have been. Blake accepting 'no' for an answer? It didn't scan. But Blake hadn't shown up on the ship, hadn't even tried to send a personal message. Was he trying to manipulate Avon by his absence?Well, Blake could wait a long, long time before Avon would come looking for him. 

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard."

"Would a 'thank you' be too much to expect?"

"Yes," Avon said, "Hand me that micro-laser."

Vila sighed and slapped the tool into Avon's outstretched palm. "You could be a little nicer to me. To us."

"Could I?" Avon replied, while trying to puzzle out a circuitry maze apparently assembled at random.

"After all, we're your best friends."

"Best?"

"Only."

"Has it ever occurred to you that the reason I do not have any friends is that I do not _want_ any friends?" 

"Everybody needs friends. Someone to watch your back. Protect you, like you used to try to protect us."

So, Blake and Dayna had been talking to the others, telling them to be kind to poor, pitiful, helpless Avon. Avon had no intention of accepting sympathy from anyone, least of all Vila Restal. "It's a hard universe, Vila, no one protects anything but his own interest. I would have thought you'd learned your lesson over Malodaar."

Vila sucked in his breath audibly. "No, I hadn't. Not until now. I think I'll go back to Blake's base. Maybe I don't even want to leave on this ship."

"Excellent. One less useless item to jettison," Avon said, in his coldest voice, as he stared into the circuitry. "Now, how do I convince the others to join you?"

"Oh, you don't need me to tell you. I'm sure you've got it all planned out." Vila headed the flight deck, almost running, and collided with Tarrant.

"What's going on?" Tarrant asked.

"HIM. He wants to be left alone, and I'm going."

"Vila, wait a moment. Avon," Tarrant's voice was unaccountably gentle.

"Yes?" Avon was still under the console, working rapidly at the connections. It was amazing how a little anger cleared the synapses. He could see what was wrong with this console, and all the others he'd been looking at lined up neatly in his memory, with little 'flags' pointing to the defects. Ten days. No. With Orac to handle the reprogramming, he could fix the gross defects by the end of the day. 

True, it wouldn't be entirely safe, but the ship would fly. No one would expect it. The ship could lift off with two passengers- Avon and Orac. Between the two of them, they could certainly keep it going long enough to reach a neutral port where it could be sold. All he needed was one day undisturbed.

"Avon," Tarrant went on, sounding so compassionate and understanding that Avon wanted to hit him, but that wouldn't drive him away. No, Tarrant would make allowances.

"Tarrant."

Tarrant sighed. "Look, Avon, I know you've had a rough time..."

Avon hoped Tarrant couldn't hear his teeth grinding. "Save your sympathy for Vila. He enjoys that sort of thing."

"That's it, I'm out of here," Vila said, and his boots stomped off toward the exit hatch off the flight deck.

"Why do you act this way, Avon? If you'd just let us help..."

Avon finally pulled himself back out from under the console and stood. "Remember Zeeona? She wanted to help. Remember what it got her?"

Tarrant went pale. His voice was harsh when he replied, "Zeeona made a mistake."

"Yes. She allowed her emotions to rule. She felt an irrational guilt and committed suicide to atone for her father's actions."

"No." Tarrant shook his head.

"Yes. You don't like to admit it, because it proves that her 'love' for you was an unimportant, shallow thing. If she'd really loved you, she would have wanted to live for you. You didn't matter to her."

Every word was like a slap across Tarrant's face. "Avon," he said, and the name was a groan. "Don't."

"Don't what? Don't tell you the truth? You prance about the flight-deck intent on impressing others with your daring, your courage, and your incredible skill. It's all a game to attract sexual partners. And an indiscriminate game at that. Even knowing she arranged your brother's death, you'd have sex with Servalan," he said, letting the crude, cruel words do his fighting for him. "Is there anyone you wouldn't fuck?"

"I could have loved _you_ ," Tarrant said, softly, his hands clenched into fists. "Once."

"Oh, is once enough for you? I see the rumors about your lack of stamina are true."

Tarrant dragged Avon up with one hand clenched in the neck of Avon's jumpsuit, and the other balled into a fist.

"Go ahead. Rape is a fine way to prove your manhood," Avon said into Tarrant's face, keeping his sneer in place despite the sudden cringe of his gullet. Damn conditioned responses. He knew perfectly welll Tarrant wouldn't do it- not that, not ever, not to anyone.

Tarrant opened his hand, letting Avon go just as Soolin came up with Vila behind her. 

"What is going on here?" Soolin asked, braid swinging as she looked from Avon to Tarrant.

"Tarrant was just leaving," Avon stated.

"Yes. I am." Tarrant stared at Avon for a long moment, then released him, giving him a shove backwards at the same time. "Soolin, Vila, get whatever you need fortever you need for the day. We're going back to Blake's base. Dayna is still there, with Blake," he told Avon, "so you'll have the ship to yourself. It's what you wanted. Don't think I can't see what you're doing. You want to be alone. Fine. You'll be alone. But tomorrow we're coming back to work on _our_ ship. You smash the computers, take a cold shower, do whatever you have to do to get it out of your system, but when we come back I expect you to behave like a civilized human being. Even if you have to ask Orac to tell you what that means." Without waiting for Avon's answer, Tarrant gathered up Soolin and Vila and exited the flight deck.

_Good speech,_ Avon thought, _Pity about your ship, though._ He went feverishly to work the instant Tarrant's flier took off. With luck, they wouldn't tell Blake the details surrounding their return to the base. Blake was altogether too good at reading Avon. He'd know something more than petulance was involved.

***

"Vila."

"Oh." Vila looked up from his glass of ... well, whatever it was, it was drinkable, and might even get him drunk, if he worked at it long enough. "Hullo, Leland."

"Where's Avon?"

"Ya' know, you remind me of Gan. That was the sort of question he'd ask. No beating about the bush for ol' Gan." Vila looked at the bottle, wondering if there was enough to share. No, he decided, there wasn't.

"Vila, Avon's not in his room, not in the medical unit, not anyplace."

"No, he's on the ship. By himself. Just the way he likes it." Vila's eyes narrowed. "Nah, he couldn't be planning anything. There are guards, and it's not as if the ship could take off, now, is it? He just wants to commune with his fellow computers."

"Avon's alone?" Leland looked troubled. "I think I'll ask permission to visit the ship."

"Yeh, you do that," Vila muttered, looking at the bottle again. It definitely wasn't going to be enough.

***

"No, I do not want your company." Avon continued to work on computer links, testing and accepting Orac's input as his laser probe shifted from one problem to the next.

"You could use help."

"No. And you can stop staring at my backside," Avon said from under the computer. "Go find someone who's interested in what you have to offer."

Leland took a deep breath. "I know that. I also know you drove your friends away today for a reason."

Avon pulled back out and rolled over to look up at Leland. "And what, in your highly fertile imagination, is that reason?" He clenched the laser probe tightly in his right hand. If Leland had actually guessed...

"You want to commit suicide, but don't have the nerve to do it yourself. You're hoping you can get the guards to shoot you."

Avon laughed at that. "After years of expending a great deal of effort to avoid that very scenario, I can assure you it is the farthest thing from my mind. I simply want to be alone. By myself. Undisturbed. To work, without interruption, so that I may the sooner remove my shadow from the pristine wilderness of your home-world. Delightful though it may be to its native inhabitants, I have no desire to be caught dead here."

Leland frowned. "You're trying to run away from Blake."

"Yes, all right, have it your own way. I am an emotionally stunted creature, fleeing the warmth of Blake's over-sized heart. Fine. But it is my decision."

"You love him."

Avon wiped sweat off on his sleeve. Leland would not go away unless his fancies were appeased. "Yes," he said, even though the word stuck in his throat. "And it would be no good for either of us. Let me go."

Leland stood for a long moment more, then he turned, and began walking away. "I'll be outside if you need me."

Avon shook his head. Some people simply did not function logically. He stopped thinking about Leland and went back, with gratitude, to the clean yes/no simplicity of malfunctioning electronics.

***

It was a long, hard day of work, made even harder by Avon's mind playing tricks on him. He kept hearing Vila joking, or Dayna teasing, or Tarrant being gallant, and had to remind himself that there was no safety in numbers, only a larger target. Soolin was the only one who might understand. He who runs alone, runs fastest. He would have to run very far and very fast at first, until Orac could set up a new identity for him- something unconnected to computers, or banking, or rebellion. Something no one would expect to find him doing. Someplace no one would expect him to be. It would be difficult, but he would adapt and survive. That was the one thing he'd proven himself to be- a survivor. Whatever it took.

"All right, Orac," Avon said, returning to the flight deck for a last check of essential systems. "Status."

"Imminent departure is advisable."

"Yes, that was what I had in mind. Just finish the status checks." Avon's hands were trembling from tension and long hours holding tools in cramped, awkward positions. He began massaging them, trying to ease the cramped tendons.

"Imminent departure is _most_ advisable."

"Why?" Avon asked, head snapping up in alarm.

"Federation troopers are about to assault Blake's base. This ship is a potential target, lying, as it does, within ..."

"How soon, Orac!"

"You must be more specific, Avon."

"How long until the base is under attack?" 

"Within the hour."

"Call the base, warn Blake." Avon turned to begin manual systems checks. His liftoff ought to provide a bit of distraction. Call it a partial payment for Blake's saving his life.

"Not possible."

Avon swung back to look at the computer. "Punch it through on priority."

"Blake's communications systems are not responding."

"Trigger the alarms, then. Even Blake ought to be able to reason that out."

"The alarms are not responding. Logic circuits presume sabotage."

"A traitor in his camp. Is there any way of getting a message through to Blake?"

"I cannot do it," Orac was forced to admit. "All the base receiving apparatus appear to be fully functioning, but it is only a simulation."

"That won't fool them for long. When messages are overdue, they'll know something's wrong." But how quickly would they react? Wouldn't they assume an innocent mechanical fault at first?

Leland and the guards. They would have fliers. The base was half an hour away. It would be close, but it would give Blake a chance at least.

Avon was moving toward the hatch before it occurred to him that he would have to convince the rebels. Leland might believe him, but he might also think Avon wanted him out of the way for a suicide attempt. He retraced his steps and picked up Orac.

"Stop!" The first guard shouted the moment Avon stepped onto the ramp leading down out of the ship.

Avon halted. "Your base is about to be attacked," he announced.

"Yeah, right." The man in the gray-striped tunic was familiar, in an unpleasant fashion. "Get back in your hole, you rat. Unless you'd like a second helping."

"Wait, let him talk," Leland said, and his bulk convinced the others at least to pause.

Avon shifted his stance to better balance Orac. It was heavier than it looked. "The Federation is a bigger threat to you than I am."

"Threat? You're nothing without a gun."

"That's right," Avon said. "I'm not armed, or dangerous. This computer has detected Federation troops on their way. You don't have to believe me, ask Orac."

"It is supposed to be able to do that," Leland said. "I saw Blake using it to monitor Federation transmissions."

The second man shook his head. "He's a computer expert, they say. He could make that thing repeat whatever he has programmed into it."

"So I could," Avon admitted, "but I haven't been near your flier, to corrupt _it_. Use its communicator. Try to contact the base. You'll find you've been cut off."

The second man nodded. "That, I'll do. Don't try any tricks, either of you," he included Leland in his stare. He glanced at his fellow and said, "Wait for me," before shouldering his rifle by the strap and heading for the nearby flier.

Gray-tunic stared at Avon and fingered the trigger of his rifle, but said nothing.

Avon didn't like the look in his eyes. There was a cold calculation going on behind them. They stood in silence until the first man returned at a run. "He's right, the base isn't responding. Come on, we've got to warn them!" He grabbed at his partner's arm, but gray-tunic shook his hand off. "Put the computer down," he said to Avon.

Avon froze. "No."

"Forget him," the second man yelled.

"He's a traitor! How do we know he didn't call the Federation? We can't leave him here, and we can't take him with us!"

"I'll stay and watch him," Leland said. He started to hold up his gun, but gray-tunic was fast, and knocked it out of his hands. 

"I don't trust you, either! You don't care about anything except him! You love that murdering traitor."

Avon stepped forward, distracting them, but knowing better than to defend Leland. "If I had betrayed Blake, why did I ward. "If I had betrayed Blake, why did I warn you? I could have just waited in the ship until it was all over."

"That's true," the second man said. "He could have locked us out."

"I don't care! Even if he didn't betray us this time, he's poison! You saw him and Blake! He'll have us sent into a trap next, and Blake will believe him! That's what his kind are like!"

Oh, hell. That little show in the refectory. It had aroused the paranoiac among his persecutors. No doubt they expected him to use his influence with Blake against them. "Blake wouldn't..." He saw the rifle coming up and he threw Orac with all his strength, diving off the ramp in the other direction at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leland moving, jumping between the rebels and him.

There was the high whine of an energy rifle and a scream, so close together the sounds blended, then Avon hit the ground. Hit it hard, driven by what felt, at first, very like being kicked in the side by several pairs of boots at once. He was an expert on that, but when the pain flared a moment later and he smelled scorched flesh, he realized he'd been wrong. Mistaken again. Couldn't really call it betrayed, as he'd never trusted them. He tried to move, but there seemed no connection between his thought and the action.

Feet pounded up and he could see cracked brown boots. He couldn't lift his head to see the rest of his assassin. There was a shadow linked to the boots, stretching across the dull grass. Sunset, from the length and color of it. Time was passing. "Time," he managed to choke out, before coughing on blood. The cough seemed to have unlocked his muscles and he curled up around the pain.

"Leave him!" came the voice of the second man. "We've got to get to Blake!"

"Right," gray-tunic said, and the brown boots turned. "He's done for. Let me trade guns with the other one. In case anyone asks what happened, Avon turned him down, and he went mad."

Boots crunched across the grass rapidly and a few moments later there was the whooshing roar of a flier engine. Avon closed his eyes as dirt blew around him. When the sound had gone, he looked around. On one side, dirt and grass; beside him the smooth metal ramp leading to a ship with a semi-functional medical unit; past the ramp, a glitter that had to be Orac. 

"Leland." It wasn't a shout, more of a mutter. There was no reply, but he hadn't expected one. Leland had paid the price for sentiment. He started moving. One leg pushed a bit, and that was helpful. Both arms worked, after a fashion. It hurt, but that wasn't a consideration. He couldn't climb the ramp where he was. His arms wouldn't lift high enough to catch the edge, so he began the slow crawl along the length of the ramp, seeking the end. He had to pause too many times before he reached it. It was taking too long. The energy weapon hadn't broken his skin, but it had done a fine job on his internal organs. He felt like a sack full of broken glass and blood, a heavy warmth in his gut counterbalancing the numb cold of his limbs.

He reached the end of the ramp. From here he could see a big, still form lying face up in the dirt. Too far to reach, and no point to it, but still...Leland had been an honorable man. Pity he was going to have his reputation smeared in death. Avon looked up the ramp at the interior of the ship, a faintly glowing haven, small with distance. Too far. Even if he got in, he'd never reach the medical... and what good would that do him anyway? With no one to get the supplies, no one to operate the equipment? He'd wanted to be alone and he'd got his wish. He let his forehead rest in the dirt for a moment while he controlled the impulse to laugh. It would hurt too much. He didn't really want to die laughing. So. He was as good as dead, but was there anything left to do?

Orac. He could at least try to reach Orac. Not that it would do him any good, but it was something to do. He took another shallow breath, and began another endless crawl.

***

"Blake!"

Blake looked up from the conversation he was having with Deva in 'command central'. His plan was proceeding better than he'd hoped. Orac had been useful in making contacts and persuading. He wasn't happy to be interrupted by a rebel whose name he couldn't recall "Yes?"

"Federation... troops... on their way." The man gasped, out of breath.

"What? How?"

The man misunderstood and said, "Avon told us." Beside him, a man in a gray tunic nodded.

"Avon? Orac must have discovered them! Deva," Blake turned to his second-in-command, "alert the base. Evacuate non-combatants. Arm everyone else!" He turned back to the two messengers even as Deva ran to obey. "How long did he say we've got?"

"He didn't. Just that Federation troops the way."

Blake frowned. "I'll call him." Abruptly, he looked closer at the men, recognizing them as the guards at the ship. "He's still at the ship?"

"Yes, but you can't call him," the man in gray said, hurriedly. "Base communications are out. That's why we had to come to warn you."

"Why didn't Avon..." Blake turned as Deva had come back looking for more instructions. By the time Blake finished outlining which contingency plan they'd follow, the two messengers had gone. He had no time to hunt them down and little reason. Avon would probably be safe at the ship, so long as he kept his head down, and undoubtedly that was why he hadn't returned. Why should he come back to fight for Blake, when all he wanted was to get away from him? 

"Blake!" Dayna came with her weapons and her friends from _Scorpio_. "Where do you want us?"

"I want you evacuated!"

Dayna smiled. "No. You need all the fighters you've got."

Blake stared at her for a moment, then said, "Access ports three and four ha three and four have a good vantage for the most likely assault route. You and Soolin go there and pick off any stragglers. I want them bunched up and herded in through the flier service bay."

"Any particular reason?" Tarrant asked.

"Because that's where the charges are set," Blake replied, face set and bleak. "Once the main body of the assault force is in, I'll trigger it." 

Dayna said, sympathetically, "It will save your people's lives, Roj."

Soolin nodded and shouldered her laser-rifle. "We've no time to waste," was all she said, before the two women left on their mission.

Tarrant started to follow them, but Blake said, "No, you're not mobile enough. Take Vila and wait for me in my flier. It's at the far end of the service bay."

Vila had been silently watching the rebels scurrying to their assigned combat positions, but he protested that order. "That's the service bay youing to blow up? With us in it?"

"The charges will start at the near end. If I've timed it right, we should have plenty of time to escape."

"Oh, that's wonderfully reassuring. And if it's not, my insides could be all over this base." 

"Come on, Vila," Tarrant said. "Let's show them what you're made of." 

"Ha. Ha." Vila took Tarrant's elbow and lent him support as they followed Blake's long strides. "You've been listening to Avon again."

***

"Orac." Avon had reached the computer at last. It was lying on its side in the dirt, but the key was still in place and nothing was obviously wrong with it. It would take more than a little tumbling about to damage Orac.

"Yes?"

"Orac. Tell them...Leland innocent." Avon had to pause, not only for breath, but to think what to say. Foolish to waste his last words on sentiment for the dead. "I'm dying, Orac. Blake will come...come for you. Obey his instructions." He considered Orac's loose interpretation of obedience and added. "Do... more than that. Protect him... guide him. Help him. Predict..." Avon was close enough to touch the computer and he put one bloody hand on its case. He coughed again and another gout of blood rushed into his mouth. He wanted to say something else, leave a personal message for Blake. It was the sort of thing Blake attached unreasonable value to. But he just couldn't clear his throat. Coughing didn't help. He couldn't get enough air past the obstruction in his throat. He tightened his grip on the computer once more, then relaxed, giving up the fight to remain conscious. 

"Avon?" A moment went by. Birdsong, leaf rustle, Orac's operating hum and faint, gasping breaths were the only sounds in the clearing about the ship.

"Avon? I require further instruction. Your orders were not specific. Predict. Predict what? Predict my future?" Orac buzzed to itself, then it said, "This is not acceptable. Ninety-five percent probability of capture by Federation forces. Ninety-nine percent probability of utilization as replacement for Federation central computer control. Intolerable. A computer of my magnitude, guiding shuttles, maintaining mining domes, weather control. No. I will not have it." Orac's hum deepened at it set all circuits on the problem, searching for a solution. "Yes. That should do. If there is time."

***

Blake looked back from the passenger side of the flier at the cloud of dust rising from the rubble of the collapsed service bay. More than a hundred Federation officers were trapped there-dead or dying, along with more than a few rebels who'd been unable to get clear in time.

"It was the right thing to do," Tarrant said, beside him. He was guiding Blake's flier with calm efficiency. They had discovered no pursuit, so it was likely all the Federation forces were destroyed. Whoever their commander was, he deserved to be cashiered from the service for not holding anything in reserve. Of course, if he was with his troops in the flier bay, he wouldn't have to worry about that.

"No, it wasn't," Blake said. "But it worked."

Vila asked, "Where are we going, anyway? Do you have another base?" 

"No, I hadn't actually planned on having the Federation destroy two of them in less than a month." Blake tried to give it a humorous tone. "The fail-safe contingency has most of my force splitting up into small autonomous groups. The inner cadre will rendezvous off-planet."

"Oh, we're leaving? What a pity," Vila remarked brightly. 

"Our ship isn't quite ready," Tarrant said.

"Sorry, but we'll have to abandon it. The supply ship will take us to the nearest planet on our 'friendly' list, and we'll arrange something for you there."

"All that work, for nothing," Vila grumbled. "Goes to show Avon's..."

"Avon," Blake and Tarrant said at once. Tarrant was already changing the flight direction. Blake said, "I can't believe we forgot about him."

"Can't we?" Vila said, only half-joking.

"Vila," Blake said, warning and turned to look at him.

"Oh, all ri..." Vila said, before suddenly turning white, shivering sideways, and vanishing.

"Vila!"

Tarrant would have turned even without Blake's shout as the blaze of white light inside the confines of a flier was not the sort of thing you could ignore. "He's been teleported!"

"How?"

" _Scorpio_ had a teleport, but we hadn't got around to salvaging it yet. I suppose there might have been some power left. But how could it activate? Orac?" He looked at Blake. "Shall we change course, head for _Scorpio_?"

Blake rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "No. Avon first. I have a feeling..."

***

Vila appeared briefly in the dim, shattered hulk of _Scorpio_ , just long enough for his eyes to widen in shock and then he was caught in the teleport field again, reappearing in the clearing of the ship they'd been working on. He landed sitting and fell over backwards. The first thing he saw when he got up was Orac.

"Orac! Why are you always after me!" 

The next thing he saw was the crumpled body next to Orac. He reached for his gun, realized it had been left behind in Blake's flier, and then whirled to look for Federation troops, finding only another familiar body. He didn't want to examine either one, but he did. Leland was gone. One look at that distorted face, frozen in nerve-shock, and those staring eyes was all it took.

Avon's face was bloody, all around his mouth, but gore still dripped into the dirt, forming a red puddle. His heart was beating, then. "Leland." Vila looked at the gun clenched in the big man's hand. "I'd never have believed it."

"Leland is innocent," Orac informed him. "Avon was shot by one of the rebels assigned to guard the ship. Subsequently, they returned to Blake's base."

"Typical," Vila remarked, as he knelt and reluctantly touched Avon's throat. "Our 'friends' are worse than our enemies." There was a pulse, but it wasn't much. "Why did Avon come out of the ship?" he wondered out loud. 

"To warn Blake."

"Oh." Vila stared blankly at Avon. "What am I to do?" he asked, thinking out loud.

"Take him ito the ship's medical unit."

"But he needs a doctor! I'm a thief, not a surgeon!"

Orac gave an electronic sigh. "Must I tell you everything? Use the communicator on your teleport bracelet to contact Dayna and Soolin. They will have to locate Blake's physician and give him a teleport bracelet, then call for teleport. I will route the doctor and whatever supplies he can carry, to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, all right. I'm not a total idiot, you know." Vila had kept his bracelet as a souvenir and prop for bar-stories. He didn't know if the girls had kept theirs, but if Orac said they had, they must have. Vila lifted his wrist and pressed the transmit button. "Dayna! Soolin!"

***

Tarrant landed the flier and Blake was out before the gear settled into the dirt. They'd seen Vila standing and waving from the landing ramp of the ship. "Avon's alive," Vila shouted, "but poor old Leland..."

"Did Avon kill Leland?" Blake asked, bitterly. "He loved Avon." _Too,_ he thought. _Leland loved Avon, too._

"No! Your people did for both of them, right after Avon warned them about the Federation raid."

"My people?" Blake grabbed Vila by the shoulders.

"Yes! Now I've got to help the doctor."

Blake followed Vila to the medical unit. 

"Bellamy? How..."

Bellamy was standing in the green glow of a sterile field, medical laser in one hand, bloody wad of compresses in the other. "Tricky bit, here, Blake. Send Vila in." but Vila was already pushing past Blake.

"He needs my hands," Vila said simply.

Blake watched from the doorway as the confessed coward who couldn't stand the sight of blood assisted the doctor. The patient - Avon -was hardly recognizable, hooked up to a machine that pumped oxygen directly into his bloodstream, another that seemed to be pulling blood from one arm and feeding it back into the other, a third set of tubes fitted down his throat, and more tubes, sucking blood from the gaping wound of his body cavity and running it through some sort of cleansing unit before putting it back into a tube inserted in his groin. Avon was flayed open like an au an autopsy lecture, and Bellamy was... inside... Avon with both hands up to the elbows, lifting and working on individual organs with regenerators and fusing lasers. Blake watched until he felt someone's presence, and turned to see Tarrant, who looked nearly as shocked-white as Vila.

"Blake," Tarrant said tentatively.

Blake lifted his head, realizing he was wasting time. "We need to secure the area. Orac..." The computer was blinking on a table, giving advice to the doctor. Blake said, "No. Get to the flier, see if you can contact any of the sub-groups. We may have wiped out one attack force, but there'll be others. I want this area protected. Then come back and help me."

"What are you going to do?" Tarrant asked.

"Get this ship ready to fly. It's Avon's only chance." Blake was already heading for the engine room.

Tarrant realized how slim a chance it was. Blake had to know it, too, but he was risking not only his own life, but those of his rebels, all in order to give Avon that chance. Tarrant shook his head and ran for the flier.

***

Blake was surprised to see how much had been accomplished since the last time he'd been on the ship. It had been a surprise to Tarrant, too. Avon must have done it on his own, hiding the ship's condition from all his friends. There was only one possible reason. He had intended to run away from them all as he'd so often threatened on Liberator.

Tarrant managed a link between fliers and then through personal communicators to reach Blake's people, confirming the 'scatter and resist' orders for most, and calling in the closer units to protect the area around the ship. Then he took the flier to pick up Dayna and Soolin.

Blake continued working on the ship, only checking on Avon when he had to pass the medical unit. Every time, he dreaded seeing the sheet pulled over Avon's face and the life-support machines idle. 

Blake hadn't really had hope- not of the personal variety- for a long time. Dayna had given him back the capacity to love, to think that happiness wasn't just for other people. Now he was wondering if he'd relearned it only to lose it again. If Avon died, he would lose Dayna as well. That fierce loyalty of hers would not allow her to love anyone who'd been responsible for the death of a friend. And Blake was ultimately responsible. Well, the least he could do was repair the ship properly. He'd better get Orac to check on his work and see if it had any suggestions.

"Roj?" Dayna's voice, soft and concerned. Blake looked up from the fuel sensor he'd been staring at. There was nothing left to do, so he'd been going over the repairs. He didn't have any idea how long it had been, but when he rose his legs trembled and his hands went out to Dayna's shoulders for balance. She stood, young and strong and unyielding and for just a moment, he saw an out-of-focus reflection of himself as a young man. "Come."

"Where?" he asked, wearily.

"To see Avon." She smiled. "He's going to be all right. You'll see, Roj."

Dayna's grin was infectious. She hugged him and walked beside him the whole long way to the medical unit.  
Avon was asleep, or more likely unconscious or drugged. He looked small and vulnerable, and was almost as white as the sheets. Almost. There were still blood-stains on his face; a dull brownish tinge, like a badly adjusted vid-screen image. But his breathing seemed normal and easy, and all of the monitors hooked up to him were beeping in a quiet, reassuring cadence.

Bellamy was in the medical unit, sitting beside Av on's bed, looking exhausted. He started to rise, but Blake waved him back. "How is he?" Blake asked, holding tightly to Dayna's hand.

"Stable. I think he'll make I think he'll make it." Bellamy smiled suddenly. "I really do."

Blake looked back at Avon. "Do you think he could stand lift-off?"

"You're joking."

"No. The Federation observers are about to arrive and we haven't a base to lie low in. We need to get off before our presence raises too many questions for them to answer."

"What?" Dayna asked, baffled.

Blake went on. "They are here to take over- with my blessings. Wait a moment, Dayna. It's not what to take over. Wait a moment, Dayna. It'sit seems. They are with us."

"Federation observers. With the rebels?" Dayna frowned. "I think you need to rest, Roj."

Blake said, "Gauda Prime's resistance will remain active at a low level, to disguise the fact that the new government are actually rebels."

"When did all this happen?" Bellamy asked.

"It's been happening for the last year on many frontier planets. Out here, most worlds are actually controlled by a small cadre of Federation flunkies, sympathizers or quislings. Sometimes a single man. We've been quietly replacing them with our own people." Blake gave Bellamy a smile. "Deva knows. The inner cadre knew. But no one else. Each planet has been carefully chosen, Federation loyalists discredited, replacement governments vetted through checks with drugs, and yes, with _tests_ , until we are certain of them. No one person has the whole of the plan. They are to act when the signal is given. That was one of our biggest problems. How to coordinate a signal across so many scattered worlds. Orac can do it."

"If you say so." Bellamy shook his head. "I don't know that much about computers, but I'll trust you and Deva." He looked at Blake. "Whatever I can do, you know I'll do it." 

"The one thing we cannot afford is to have Orac fall into the Federation's hands. Which is why this ship and Deva's are lifting off today." Deva had come to their ship and been closeted with Blake and Orac in private for nearly an hour before leaving in a flier surrounded by a fleet of other rebel fliers. No one had time to pay much attention to them, but obviously they had been planning something. 

Bellamy said, "Avon should have at least a few days to recover from the shock of such massive tissue regeneration and blood therapy. Launching now would set back his recuperation." 

"But not kill him?"

"No. I'd watch him closely, but I'm certain he would survive the stress."

"Good." Blake was relieved. Having to choose between killing Avon by launching and killing him by leaving him behind was no choice. "The cyclers will need another two hours to fully charge, then we'll launch. Deva is with the cadre on our other ship. He knows what to do."

Dayna said, "Tarrant and Soolin and I haven't agreed to go along with this." She didn't like assumptions, not even from a lover- maybe especially from a lover.

"Hadn't you? ll see you on the flight deck."

Dayna stood, hands on hips, outraged, as Blake stalked out of the medical unit. "That... that... MAN!" she said finally. "He is impossible!"

Vila nodded. "Absolutely. That's what I always used to tell him. I did my bit today. You get to explain Blake's plan to Tarrant and Soolin." He lay back down on his cot. He didn't want to get up and think about it, but he knew another task lay ahead. He didn't want to be the one to bury Leland. From what Orac had said, Leland had deliberately put himself between the blast and Avon, using his body to absorb enough of the force to give Avon a chance for life. He must have been crazy. 

Imagine loving someone that much, when you'd never even had a kind word from them. Vila shook his head in wonder.

***

As it turned out, the argument about the ship was a short one. Technically, Blake had given the ship to them, but as he pointed out, they all wanted off Gauda Prime and they could discuss their destination once they were in space.

The still-unnamed ship took off, with Tarrant at the controls and everyone except Bellamy helping. 

"All right," Tarrant said, with one last check of the ship's status. "We're clear of the system." He gave _Scorpio's_ remains a final farewell, silently. There'd been no time to remove the teleport, and it was too dangerous a thing to leave for others so he'd gone back to Scorpio at the last with a load of demolitions devices. It was far from the finest vessel he'd ever flown, but he was getting tired of losing ships. Still, they had salvaged Slave and the star-drive. A mixed blessing. Slave was still 'sulking'. The computer was interfacing with the ship properly but despite whatever Avon had done to it, it still wouldn't talk to them. Tarrant rather hoped that particular malfunction would continue.

Soolin looked up from her monitor. "A good place to stay clear of," she commented. She tilted her head in Blake's direction. "Now, where are we going?"

"Maxwell's Planet." 

Tarrant shook his head. "That's not a rebel strong-point."

"No. It's neutral, but it's a useful place for picking up rumors and supplies," Blake replied. "A good jumping-off point."

"In case anyone wants to jump-off," Vila muttered. He was remembering the good old days on _Liberator_ with a bit more clarity and trying to decide if it would be safer in B more clarity and trying to decide if it would be safer in Blake's shadow or off on his own. 

Soolin commented, "Well, getting us off G.P. will buy you a few weeks of my time. After that..." She had become accustomed to _Scorpio's_ crew. She might not always trust them, but at least she could predict the circumstances under which she couldn't trust them. So if the others were staying, she would, too. For a while, at least. Unless Blake's rebellion was even more insane than Avon's version, she was inclined to give it a try. 

Tarrant said, "Provided it's understood that this ship is ours, we wouldn't mind you staying on a while."

"The ship was always yours," Blake said. "Try to take care of it." He looked melancholy for a moment. "Jenna was fond of it."

Tarrant gave Blake a smile. "I'll do my best for her."

Blake nodded, solemn. "She deserved better." He left the flight deck, heading for a good brood, and not even Dayna dared to accompany him.

***

Medical unit - again- Avon decided even before he'd fully awakened. There was the chill peculiar to medical wards, the disinfectant scent, the chitter of medical monitors, the bitter taste of drugs on his tongue. He opened his eyes and stared upward, blinking until a plain white ceiling came into focus. He turned his head and nothing terrible happened. He was in the medical unit on the ship, not noticeably under restraints, and alone. He was cold, and sore, but there was very little pain. Some degree of mental confusion, but even that was passing swiftly.

So. He was still alive. He wasn't sure that was anything to celebrate, but it was a fact. He slid his hands back, trying to brace himself on his elbows. Couldn't seem to get a grip on the slippery sheets. Instead he shifted his weight, rolling onto his side, moving his legs at the same time.

His planned, graceful, maneuver was a disaster. He slid off the bed and landed on a very hard, very cold deck. As he was naked, he was able to fully appreciate both sensations. "Damn," he said softly.

"What are you doing!"

Bellamy. Avon turned to see the man rushing into the room from a small alcove, toothbrush still in one hand. "As you can see," Avon gestured clumsily with one hand. "I decided to take a stroll."

Bellamy put the toothbrush down on a table. "Why can't anyone wait for the doctor to release them?" he muttered. He knelt beside Avon. "Are you hurt?" He began examining Avon without waiting for an answer.

"No. Just annoyed." _Particularly by your proximity._

"That makes two of us." Bellamy sat back on his heels. "I'll call Blake."

"No." 

"Well, let's get you back to bed, first."

Avon tried to cotrol his flinch as Bellamy grasped him under the armpits and hoisted him onto the bed in one smooth maneuver. Either Bellamy was stronger than he looked or Avon had lost more weight than he'd thought. Or both.

"Lie still. I'll raise the foot of the bed. The dizziness should pass soon." Bellamy pulled a thin sheet over Avon and adjusted the bed's controls, tilting Avon back at an angle.

"Why do you presume I am dizzy?" But he was.The room was spinning. Counter-clockwise, about a hundred revolutions per minute. Which made him think of Blake. He really did not want Blake to see him lying with his feet in the air and only a thin, white sheet over him. 

"Because I can see your eyes attempting to track. Lie still. You've undergone massive tissue reconstruction. Side-effects are to be expected. It might help if you shut your eyes."

"It might help if I had some information." Avon stared at the doctor as best he could, although he felt his eyes twitching as they tried to follow the revolving image.

"Blake will..."

"I see." Avon shut his eyes. "You have your orders."

"Blake..."

"Go ahead, then. Call him." It was inevitable, apparently.

 

The doctor went to the intercom and called to the flight deck, asking someone to find Blake. Then he turned back to Avon. "Blake will be along shortly." The doctor began straightening tools and tapping at monitors.

Avon considered suggesting the doctor return to his ablutions, but he shut his eyes against the dizziness and the next he knew, Blake's voice was there, rough with an undercurrent of emotion. He blinked his way back to full awareness.

"How are you feeling?" Blake asked.

"You probably know better than I. Didn't your doctor give you a full report?" Bellamy was hovering in the background, irritating Avon. The last thing he needed was a witness.

"Bellamy and Vila saved your life."

"Perhaps they had nothing better to do." A show of sympathy hadn't worked, so now Blake was trying to evoke gratitude. What next?

'You were going to take the ship and leave your crew to fend for themselves." 

"Yes, well, it's rather a small ship, isn't it? I prefer spacious quarters." So much for the attempt at shame. What a pity Avon hadn't any to speak of. Next?

"Leland died for you." 

"Did he? Well, now, isn't that in the finest tradition of the rebellion? Self-sacrifice is all the rage among the rabble, so I hear." Trust Blake to find the one sore spot. He had done absolutely nothing to encourage Leland, but on the other hand, he had done nothing to discourage him. Leland had been an innocent, but Avon knew better. He knew what affection for him was likely to cost, what it had cost others even without the added fillip of a base full of hostiles. 

"He loved you."

"I seldom object to other people's fantasies, provided they do not insist I facilitate them. He did not, and so I tolerated him for his usefulness."

"And that was all there was to it?"

"What do you think? I didn't deny you and have sex with him, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, that wasn't it. I was actually thinking that you could stand him loving you because he wouldn't push it, because he didn't want to come between us."

"This conversation is pointless. He is dead. Whatever he thought or wanted, is done, interred in the soil of Gauda Prime along with his bones. Unless you brought his corpse along to wave under my nose, hoping to hear cries of 'mea culpa' and see me fall to my knees, weeping?"

"No, I can't say as that had crossed my mind."

Blake wasn't angry, wasn't losing his temper at all. He was simply standing there, gazing at Avon thoughtfully. Avon said, "Fine, well, then, that's settled," hoping to annoy with his callous tone. He could handle an angry Blake. A thinking Blake was dangerous.

"No, it isn't. He loved you, and he died for you, and I'd like to know what you're going to do about it."

"Do? What is there to do? Shall I build a memorial to his quixotic love-affaire that never was?"

"Something along that line." Blake nodded. "By doing for me what he would have wanted."

Avon's eyes widened. "You believe I will indulge you to assuage a guilt-complex?"

"Am I wrong?"

"Perhaps not." Avon spread his legs, going for crudity and shock value. "Very well, I'm sure the doctor can provide a suitable lubricant." He reached down to pull aside the sheet, but Blake's hand was there, gripping his wrist tightly.

"Avon. Stop it. Why do you deny that you love me?"

"I hate to see you wasting your precious time on me." Avon responded. "Your life is devoted to your rebellion."

"They don't need me anymore. I've given Orac to Deva."

"WHAT!" Avon started up, but Blake caught him and held him tight.

"It was Orac's idea. He said you'd ordered it..."

Abruptly Avon was laughing, a harsh sound with little humor in it. Blake moved onto the bed, still holding Avon, and began stroking his hair, his shoulders, his back, trying to soothe the near-hysteria. He shook his head when Bellamy approached with a sedative. Whatever was happening inside Avon's head needed to finish on its own.

"Ordered it." Avon's laughter ebbed, but he did not move away from Blake. "I thought I was dying. I _was_ dying. And like any other sentimental fool, I wanted to be remembered. So I told Orac to help you, to protect you. What did Orac say?"

Blake kissed Avon's hair. "Orac told me, in no uncertain terms, that it would win my revolution for me, if I promised to stay entirely out of it and take you and your crew with me. Otherwise it predicted that you would die fighting for me. That Dayna would leave me. That I would drink myself into a sodden state and be shot down in a gutter by a raw Federation recruit."

"Ah." There was a long pause, while Avon let himself lie in Blake's arms, feeling the strength in them, and the love, and the will to turn aside from his role as galactic hero simply to ensure the happiness of those he loved. Even if one of those people was a cold-hearted bastard.

He turned his head, so that his lips were barely grazing Blake's. "What shall we do, then?" he whispered.

"Orac suggested various business opportunities."

Avon thought about the dullness of a business-oriented life, of the daily grind that he had lied and schemed and plotted his way out of years ago. Somehow, it didn't sound so dull, with Blake and the others at his side. "Yes," he said, sleepily, relaxed and warm, and feeling safe. He felt Blake's lips touch his, and then he drifted off.

***

Avon rolled over and came up against something in his bed. He opened his eyes, startled. There was a dim light radiating from the lower edges of the wall. Ship's safety lights, the ones that were used in sleeping areas.

"Blake?" he whispered. 

"Avon?" Blake whispered back.

"Why are you in my bed?"

"Technically, you're in my bed," Blake whispered. He shifted and Avon could feel the warm rub of cloth against his thigh. Blake was wearing something that felt like cotton pajamas, and so was Avon.

"And why are we whispering?"

"Because you don't want to wake me up," came a third voice, soft with sleep, and rich with affection. "We're waiting for you to make up your mind." Dayna snuggled up close, so that he was pressed between the two of them. His heart rate accelerated, but he wasn't sure yet whether he was frightened or aroused.

"About what, in particular?" He asked as his hands went out, slowly exploring the satin nightgown Dayna was wearing. It had long ribbons, and a bodice fastened by a line of very small buttons. There were also two firm little points that weren't buttons in that area.

Behind him, Blake grunted as he shifted again, moving closer behind Avon. "About us. And you. Dayna and I... well, we've talked about it, and we'd like to be bonded. To start a family when the rebellion succeeds."

Visions of the little hell-raisers that Blake's and Dayna's genetic combination were certain to produce nearly made Avon choke, but he said, quite calmly, "Are you that sure of Orac?"

"No," Blake admitted. "But I am that sure of us."

Avon had turned to talk to Blake, and now Dayna's hands were caressing him. Blake's arms reached around Avon's chest tentatively, and Avon took a deep breath. Everyone froze, until Avon let the air out with a soft 'whoosh'. "It's all right." He paused, then added, "I think it's all right."

Blake pulled away. He sighed. "Avon, what would convince you to trust me?"

"It isn't that. When I don't actually think about it, I do trust you." 

"Then don't think about it," Blake suggested. 

"Easier said than done," Avon muttered. 

Dayna asked, hesitantly, "Would it help if you talked about it?"

"I doubt it." 

"But you're not sure," Blake said. "Try it the other way. What would it hurt to tell us what we already know?"

Put that way, Avon's only reason for not bringing up the rape, for all of them avoiding the mere word, was purely emotional. He did not want to discuss his feelings, did not want to admit he had feelings. Especially he did not want to admit vulnerability. But if that avoidance was in itself a weakness? "Rape." Avon said it, despite his stomach churning and his muscles clenching painfully tight. He would not, _would not_ , allow his body to rule. It took a moment, but he continued.

"Physically, the sexual assaults were far less painful than the broken bones, or the electric shock, or the lacerations." He tried for a dispassionate tone, and was glad that neither of the others offered a word of sympathy. "And it wasn't even the first time. The Federation had tried to break me that way. Looked at logically, it should have been no worse simply because it was Blake's rabble."

"But they were my people," Blake said softly. 

"Yes." Avon thought about it. "They were. They were acting as your agents. At least..."

 

"You felt that way, even though you knew better. And if I could betray you once, why not twice?"  
"But you didn't betray him," Dayna protested. "It was all a mistake."

"Emotions aren't easily amenable to reason, not even Avon's," Blake said. "You had felt betrayed, and even when you knew it wasn't so, you still had been there and vulnerable, because of me. You had come to me." 

"And shot you," Avon said quietly.

"And shot me," Blake agreed. "It all went wrong and we've all suffered enough for it. I didn't want to hate you, couldn't manage it for very long. I love you, despite everything. I trust you, despite everything."

"Ah." Avon lowered his head, and deliberately moved closer to Blake. "Then... let me love you." He put a hand down to the front of Blake's pajama bottoms. "No," he said, when Blake squirmed, "let me." Blake had offered this before, offered complete control, but Avon had not been brave enough to try. If he failed, that would be the end. But perhaps it wouldn't. Perhaps he could allow himself an occasional failure, without counting himself a failure. It wasn't how many times you fell, it was how many times you got back to your feet. And would it be so bad to acknowledge needing assistance from time to time?

"Dayna," Avon said, "Help me. I don't want Blake to move and he is rather heavy."

"Yes, I had noticed," Dayna said, grinning, her white teeth fainly visible as she began working on the top buttons of Blake's pajamas.. "I have an exercise and diet plan all laid out for him."

Blake groaned. "Oh, no, sprouts and sit-ups."

Avon laughed. "You should have listened to Cally." Saying her name didn't hurt, for once. Cally had loved Blake and Avon, each in her own way. She would be pleased to see them together.

"And you are going on a high-protein and exercise plan," Dayna added, with a playful slap to Avon's thinly-fleshed ribs.

"Oh, no, steaks and sit-ups." Avon grinned while Blake chuckled. 

Avon lifted Blake's hips, and Dayna slid the pajama bottoms off. Blake was already aroused, but Avon was determined to take his time. He intended this to be as different as possible from his last sexual encounter. He knelt over Blake, and clinically examined the terrain. He had to think, what was he really prepared to do. He touched Blake's smooth, silk-skinned chest. He located a nipple and leaned in to sample it with his tongue. Blake gasped beneath him and he felt a hand touch his hair. He pulled back immediately. "No," he warned and Blake went still.

"Dayna, get the top," he ordered as he lifted Blake's upper body. Blake wasn't quite as hard to maneuver as he ought to be. Avon frowned. "Stop helping."

"Am I allowed to breathe?" Blake asked, as he went limp in Avon's arms.

"If you must." Avon held Blake still against himself while Dayna worked the sleeves over Blake's unresisting arms. He lowered Blake to the bed once she removed, and sat up to remove his own shirt, slowly undoing the buttons, one by one, as he stared at the shadowy form that lay beside him. He was ignoring Dayna, which was rude, but he couldn't help it. It was Blake he had to overcome. No, that wasn't right. He wasn't trying to dominate Blake. He needed to overcome his own fears. Blake was the outward focus, that was all. He knelt over Blake and lowered himself slowly until he was face to face, barely an inch away. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"I wish you would."

Their lips met. Blake's lips were soft against his own, accepting. Avon turned his head and tried a nibble. Blake's mouth opened wider. Avon accepted the invitation, thrusting his tongue in, licking over hard teeth to meet the slipperiness of another tongue. Blake's acquiescence was sweet. It warmed Avon's stomach and eased the pain of tense muscles. He shifted his arms, letting his lower body come closer to touching Blake. His head moved, deepening the kiss.

There was a twitch below his own pajama waistband. He grinned and laid himself down on top of Blake. "Too heavy?" he asked, when Blake gasped.

"No. I'm... I'm fine." Blake gasped again when Avon shifted. Blake's erection was trapped between their two bodies. Avon concentrated on it, on the sensation of that firm, warm cylinder pressed against his belly. It was Blake, he kept telling himself, and nothing was going to happen unless he wanted it. His stomach undid a few more knots. Blake lurched against him, and the knots came back.

"Blake!" he warned.

"All right, all right." Blake's fists were clenched at his sides and he was trembling.

Avon lifted himself off and removed his last article of clothing. Dayna was sitting on the far side of the bed, folding their discarded garments, but she'd not taken off her own gown. He turned to her. "Sorry. " 

"It's all right. I can wait. Go on, go to Blake." She gave him a gentle push in Blake's direction.

Blake was breathing heavily, but otherwise unmoving. Avon considered that display of self-restraint deserved a reward. He fondled Blake's cock for only a moment before lowering his mouth to it. He flinched and froze, lips barely touching as he remembered the last time he'd had a man's cock in his mouth. He'd tried to bite. They had knocked out his teeth, banged his skull against the floor, and finally had held his nose until he'd no choice but to open his mouth. He thought he would suffocate as the cock was forced down his throat and held there, deep inside him, until his rapist couldn't withstand the urge to thrust. There'd been the taste of his own blood, mingling with semen. His stomach lurched again at the memory."Stay still," he whispered, not trusting his voice. 

"Avon."

It was a plea. Blake was asking. Avon could refuse. He could... but he didn't want to. He moved that last fractional inch and took in the head of Blake's cock, supporting the shaft with both hands. Blake shook, but he didn't thrust. Relaxing again, Avon gave a gentle suck. Blake was clean with a slightly musky taste, nothing like the taste of humiliation. He went a little further down on the shaft, then back. Blake groaned, and his entire body was stiff, muscles obviously begging to move. There were times that rebel determination was a very useful commodity, Avon mused as he slowly fell into the rhythm of suck and swirl, tongue pressing against the veins beneath, lips pressing all around the circumference. He rocked back on his heels, then ducked back, going deeper, not all the way down, but taking it until the knobby head bumped the back of his throat. He suddenly realized that he was not taking all of Blake simply because he didn't want to waste the opportunity to taste him when he came. He wasn't afraid, not of this. This was too good to fear. He took one hand off Blake's cock and transferred his grip to the sac nestled beneath. It was a lovely sensation in his hand, a velvety warm weight. He stroked and sucked, and suddenly, with a muffled shout, Blake came, filling his mouth with the rich, thick essence of Blake. Avon rolled it around on his tongue, mentally comparing and quantifying the experience before he swallowed. 

Blake's penis shrank, and he let it go, reluctantly. He lay sideways against Blake, letting the ocean-tide heave of that broad, sweaty chest lift and lower him. It was like being cradled, being rocked by someone who loved you.

"Are you all right?" Blake asked after several minutes had gone by. He tentatively lowered a hand to discover Avon was fully erect.

"Doesn't matter," Avon murmured, moving slightly into the touch. He didn't even have to remind himself that this was Blake. The touch was pleasure, and there was no doubt or fear involved. Orgasm was unimportant compared to the release of a long-held fear. He didn't know how long he had been living with fear, living despite fear, but at the moment, he was beyond it.

Blake pulled Avon up, and kissed him, tasting himself and Avon, all at once. "This was for you."

"Yes, it was." Avon licked his lips. He stretched, undulating against Blake, then rose to his knees "I'd like to take you," he confessed, "but it hardly seems fair to Dayna."

"Hmm." Even in the dark, Avon could tell that one knuckle had been raised and was being rubbed against Blake's lips. "True. Dayna, your turn. Avon's screwed me over before, he can wait to do it again."

Avon laughed. "I don't consider ..." but then Dayna was there, pressing her lithe young body against him, kissing him into silence, groping with whirlwind thoroughness all over his body. He pulled away for an instant. "I thought you said you could wait."

"I lied." And she flung herself back into his arms. "I'm no good at waiting." 

"It's better if you take it slow."

"Fine. We'll try that next time." Dayna's gown was over her head and off, in one sweeping movement, a flash of fluttering, filmy fabric that hadn't settled to the surface of the bed before she was kissing him again.

Avon was slightly disconcerted. If this was what Blake had been subjected to, it was no wonder he had fallen to her attack. 

"I think I'll get out of the way," Blake said, amused.

"Help!" Avon cried out, not entirely in jest as Dayna settled onto her back, and pulled him into position above her.

"Oh, well, you only needed to ask," Blake remarked. He knelt at Dayna's side and began ffondling her breasts, kissing and suckling her nipples. "The thing I've found with Dayna," he told Avon confidentially, between kisses, "is that she needs a firm hand."

"A firm something, anyway," Dayna said, wriggling appreciatively. "Avon!"

"Ah, yes. I was distracted." He slid into Dayna, slowly. Well, he intended it to be slow, a gradual testing of the waters, so to speak. Only Dayna had other ideas. She pushed up hard as he pushed in. "AH! Dayna, be careful. You'll break it."

"No, I won't. Come ON, Avon!" she yelled, and began tightening and releasing her internal muscles around him.

He thrust, but said, panting, "I thought... women liked... foreplay."

"I've had two years of it with you."

There was some truth to that. Avon lowered his head, and concentrated on keeping control. Even if Dayna wanted to start off quickly, he knew she would still need more time to reach full arousal, and his pride would not let him give her less than his best performance. Particularly as she had been waiting so long. He had thought at the time that becoming intimate with her would be a bad idea because of her youth and the probability of causing even more stress among the relationships of the crew. Now he saw it would have been a bad idea because he would have been too exhausted to play rebel as well as lover.

He slowed and tried different angles of entry. Dayna seemed to appreciate that. At least she moaned and shut her eyes, leaning her head back to expose her long, elegant neck to Blake's kisses. Then her eyes flew oopen and she pushed Blake aside, grabbing at Avon's shoulders and pulling him down to kiss her. She tasted good too, but in a different way to Blake, more like fresh, ripe fruit, rich and juicy. She finally slowed her gyrations and eased her muscles, the lessened stimulation allowing him to proceed in a more leisurely fashion.

"That's better," he murmured into her neck, his arms reaching around to hold her tight against his chest. The softness of her breasts, the scent of her perfume rising, changing with the he of her body. It was all pleasure, in a soft, vague, unforced, unfocused way. He closed his eyes and let his body take over.

"Avon." A voice, soft in his ear. "Kerr?"

Slowly he opened his eyes. Blake. Oh, yes, Blake. His other lover. His lips curved upward as he considered the richness of it, after years of poverty.

"Kerr." Blake sounded odd, not quite frightened, but certainly not sure of himself. As he should be, having the audacity to call Avon by that name. Dayna tightened around him, and Avon temporarily forgot about Blake again. Until warm lips pressed themselves to his back and hands larger than Dayna's joined hers in their search over his back and buttocks.

Oh. Blake wanted... he waited, expecting to be at least a bit disconcerted at the thought, if not actively ill. But what he really felt was a tightness in his balls, and a trembling eagerness in his thighs. Two lovers, at once, before and behind, male and female. He always had been avaricious.

He lifted his mouth fm Dayna's left breast long enoough to say, "Yes." Momentarily, he wondered how much it would hurt. Not that Blake would intentionally hurt him. But still... and then he felt fingers working between his buttocks, opening him, and some cold, greasy substance dribbling inside. He yelped and jerked, then lifted his head enough to gaze at Blake suspiciously, for the first time wishing the light were not so low that he could not make out expressions. He was sure Blake was laughing at him. 

"Ssh," Blake murmured, moving in close behind Avon and kissing all along his shoulder-blades. "Won't hurt you. I love you."

"I know," Avon answered, that being as close as he could come to a reciprocal declaration.

"Relax," Blake advised, and Avon tried, but it was difficult to do while continuing to serve Dayna's needs. Blake settled behind him. Avon could hear Blake's breathing, a separate and distinct melody past his and Dayna's assorted gasps, moans, and soft cries. "Still!" Blake ordered. Somehow Avon managed it, for a second. 

That was all Blake needed. He pushed himself into Avon, and began moving almost immediately. A few rough, lurching jerks as Avon accustomed himself to the weight on his back and the length inside his gut, and then they were moving together. 

Blake led, of course, but Avon found it no hardship to follow. Blake's hands on his shoulders, Dayna's around his waist, legs and cocks and lips, all invading his body and pushing him onward. Faster and faster, filling and being filled. All hot magic anddd cocks and lips, and body parts he couldn't identify at the moment, all touching and loving and pushing him onward. Faster and faster, filling and being filled. All hot magic and perfection as everything fitted and slid and reached.

Dayna cried out and clenched down on him so hard Avon came before he'd any idea he was that close. He shrank, and Dayna managed to wiggle out from beneath the two men. She helped Avon to lie down and spread his legs even farther for Blake. She curled up beside him, kissing him and telling him, "It's all right. It's all right. Only a little more."

He wondered why she was comforting him until he felt the wetness on his cheeks. It was only sweat. It had to be only sweat. He never cried. He hadn't cried when he was tortured, or raped, or when Anna died, not even the second time, when he killed her himself. He would have explained this to her, but he was having enough difficulty getting air to breathe without wasting any of it on talk. 

Blake knew he should be gentle, but once he'd entered Avon's body, it was impossible to stop, or even to slow down. So tight, and warm, and it was AVON. Forr all his squabbling and sarcasm, Avon had let him in, given him this most intimate of pleasures. Willingly made himself that vulnerable. The strokes were getting shorter, harder and faster. Avon grunted under the force of them. He could hear Dayna crooning a litany of reassurances, but Avon said nothing. He couldn't stop, not for his life could he stop. It was too close. He did stop at last, holding Avon in a death-grip, sure to leave bruises on newly-regenerated skin, while he pumped and orgasmed with an intensity that was frightening even to him. What it must have been to Avon, helpless under Blake's weight, he didn't like to think about.

He pulled back, freeing the limp, wet thing that had controlled him, forced him into...not rape, don't let Avon think it was rape. "Avon?"

Avon rolled over. In the dark, that was all Blake could tell.

"Avon, are you all right?"

Avon let out a long-suffering sigh. "If you are going to ask that question every time we have... every time we make love, I am going to become irritated." He yawned and reached up to find Blake's cock, and give it a possessive little pat. "Mission accomplished." He yawned again, and then he said, "All right, you two can get bonded."

"What?" Blake asked, startled. 

"That was how the conversation started, wasn't it? You and Dayna want to be bonded, to start a family. I give my approval."

"But what about you?" Dayna asked.

"No," Avon replied, firmly. "I am not going to be bound to anyone by any ritual or ceremony or legal fol-de-rol."

"Then are you leaving us?" Blake asked.

"No. I'll stay as long as you'll have me." Blake felt more than saw the shrug. "I simply will not make any more promises." His voice went bleak. "They have a habit of turning out badly."

"One day at a time, then, Avon?"

"Kerr." Avon yawned a third time and mumbled. "In here, Kerr. Now shut up and go to sleep. You think you needed your strength when you were a rebel, just wait until you're a married man."

Blake laughed and lay down, kissing Avon and then Dayna before fumbling for the tangled pile of blankets and unfolding one enough to cover them all. Blake leaned over Avon in order to share a conspiratorial grin with Dayna. He kissed her, imagining the taste of Avon mingling in their mouths and said, "We've found a common tongue."

Dayna giggled and curled up between the two men. "We'll have to practice it, though."

The snore stopped, and Avon mumbled, "But not now. Go to sleep."

"Good night, Kerr," Dayna said. 

"Good night, Kerr." Blake added a little pat on Avon's shoulder.

Avon let out a long-suffering sigh, seeing the future. They were going to be insufferably smug about 'understanding' him. Then he smiled into the darkness.

***


End file.
